


Dungeon Five

by justjstuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: DG Forum, DG Forum Fic Exchange 2018, F/M, hogwarts-era AU, prompt exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justjstuff/pseuds/justjstuff
Summary: At first, Draco had thought that tutoring was not exactly a great idea—he wouldn’t go that far—but maybe a not so bad one. There was even a bonus of having it written down on his curriculum vitae, which surely couldn’t hurt when applying for the undersecretary internship. He had been wrong. It was bad and it did hurt. It was worse than he could have possibly imagined because the old cod had given him Ginny Weasley as a student. Drinny Hogwarts-Era AU.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 5
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

**Dungeon Five**

  
  


_ Hello, everyone! This is a Hogwarts-Era AU I wrote for the DG Fic Exchange in 2018 and it contains mature sexual themes—I’ll put a warning in the specific chapter. A huge thank you to my wonderful Beta. This would have been complete shit without her. Enjoy. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

Draco Malfoy was having a terrible day.

It was just another universal truth: the sky is blue, Potty stinks, Draco Malfoy was having a terrible day. Simple as that.

It started with an annoying headache the moment he opened his eyes to the green, silk curtains of his four poster bed. When he went looking for a potion to take care of it, he tripped on Pansy’s cloak—honestly, the bint was a menace and left all of her things out of place for the elves to take care of. Now, with a considerable bruise on his shin, courtesy of his ruddy settee that he could swear just up and attacked him, he found out he was out of headache potion.

His day got progressively worse from there and he had half a mind to go back to sleep and beg Merlin to let him start again.

Breakfast was disastrous. Blaise ”accidentally” ate all of the french toast, and then he met  _ his father  _ on the way to the Slytherin team changing room. His father who was apparently having a shitty day too and had decided to watch the first game of the season with some of the other governors of the Board. Draco knew that it was just a pretence for some kind of politics.

Short conversation with even shorter tempers aside, it was no time at all before he was up in the air. And losing terribly.

One hour into the game and they managed to take down McLaggen—the Gryff’s Keeper—with a nicely aimed Bludger to the head. But that was as far as they got.

It didn’t matter that Weasel was shaking on top of that thing he called a broom and couldn’t save a single shot when he subbed as Keeper. 

It didn’t matter at all because the She-Weasel seemed to be glued to the bloody Quaffle. Half the time she was scoring on them and the other half she was stealing their passes.

If Draco hadn’t been in such a foul mood, he would have been impressed.

It seemed as if the gods or whatever the fuck controlled the sky was sharing his thoughts because the sun hadn’t once peaked from between the grey clouds. No sun meant no light to reflect on the Snitch, and no Snitch in sight meant furthering their massacre.

It didn’t matter that Pansy liked to call him a Drama Queen—and, really, Queen? He much rather be a Drama King—Draco Malfoy was having a terrible day, and no one could say otherwise.

However, he’d never been the kind of man to sit by and take whatever shitty hand was given to him quietly. Draco prided himself in being cunning and hardworking enough to get what he wanted. The insufferable mudblood got better grades than him? Not for long. Potty was being unreasonable and denying him friendship to side with the King Weasel? Well, Draco would show him.

He couldn’t change the weather, though. Nor could he magically get rid of his progressively intense headache or even change this catastrophe of a game’s outcome. There was only one thing that could make his day better now and that was to see the look of utter rage on Four Eye’s face.

With renewed sense of purpose, Draco passed the teachers’ and outsiders’ stands and had to suppress a shiver. He could feel his father’s annoyed gaze on his back. Lucius apparently had no sympathy for how bad of a day his son was having and must have been hoping Slytherin would win the match. Draco felt a little better just thinking that the almost-guaranteed loss was going to piss his father off. 

He was next to Potter in no time and from there on it was as easy as breathing to rile his rival up. One stab at his intelligence here, a word about his mother there, and he was rewarded with the red-faced, rage-filled look he was so used to seeing. All was well in life. A grin—small as it was—even made it on his face before he realised something.

It seemed he had, for the first time in his life, underestimated Potter.

Maybe he had gone a tiny bit too far, or, more probably, Potty was having as bad a day as he was. It didn’t matter the reason. The next thing he knew was the idiot’s fist connecting with his nose before everything went black. 

‘

Ginny Weasley was having a great day. 

She had woken up to find her hair surprisingly well-behaved and her usual morning lethargicness nowhere in sight. Her roommates were still their overly-enthusiastic selves, sure, but it hardly mattered because today was the day.

She had  _ finally _ made Chaser last year after long nights training with the twins’ old Cleansweep in secret. All that training had panned out into hard-earned success, now was the start of a new season and she knew it would be good.

Absolutely nothing could get her mood down.

She headed downstairs already dressed in her Quidditch robes and paused slightly when she entered the Great Hall to search for her friends. Colin’s dirty-blond head caught her attention from somewhere in the middle of the Gryffindor table, and she set her course. Before she could go much farther, she felt fingers grabbing hers and pulling lightly. Ginny turned to look at Ritchie Coote.

He was in her year and one of the Beaters for Gryffindor and could actually make her laugh if he tried hard enough, which he often did. His dark skin and chocolate eyes weren’t bad on the eyes at all, and he had taken to flirting with her of late.

“Coote,” she greeted with a nod and let her fingers linger in his for a moment longer before extracting them.

“Hey, Ginny.” He beamed in the way that showed many pearly white teeth and, if she was being honest, always succeeded in blindsiding her for a minute. “Ready for today?”

“You betcha.” She winked at him and continued on her way to Colin.

She had admittedly been a bit curt, especially if she wanted something more from him. The thing was, she wasn’t exactly sure she did. This was her sixth year; she was supposed to enjoy it with a nice beau on the arm, and Ritchie was kind of cute, but she had a little too much on her plate to be considering anything serious right now. The teachers had decided to pummel them with homework, and she was pretty sure she was failing potions, so dating wasn’t exactly something she had in mind.

Besides, after the disaster with Dean, she had learned her lesson. Boys had absolutely no idea how to keep things casual.

  
  


The slight dampening to her mood was immediately lifted as she sat down across from Colin and saw him dressed from head to toe in red and gold. Today was Gryffindor’s big game against Slytherin, the season opener, and she was ready to crush some snakes.

After a short breakfast, Harry gathered the team and they headed for the changing rooms together. Ginny tied her hair back and tuned out his pep talk. She loved Harry like a brother nowadays, but good Godric, he was terrible at public speaking.

Her story with him was also complicated, to say the least.

When she was in her fourth year, and beyond annoyed that Michael Corner had gone for Cho Chang after she broke up with him, she had—after one too many butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks—fallen into Harry’s bed. Her eleven-year-old self had been happy at the time, but she had quickly realised what a huge mistake it had been. 

First of all, she’d found out that Harry really wasn’t who she wanted. Then there was the whole drama with her brother where Ron hadn’t spoken to either of them for nearly a month before the twins intervened. Now, she was happy to shove Harry into the box strictly named ‘Brother’ and never let her eleven-year-old self make any kind of decision regarding her love life ever again.

Finally, Harry ended his crappy speech and they were up in the air. Ginny found herself grinning as the crowd roared and her blood pumped excitedly. This was it. Right here, she was completely in her element. She didn’t have any explanations as to where she got her energy other than that she was having a really good day. She hardly even noticed when McLaggen was hit and her brother took his place. Instead, she intercepted pass after pass from the Slytherin Chasers and scored goal after goal. 

The rush was amazing.

Until it all crashed when the crowd screamed and gasped in horror. She turned her head just in time to see the big git Malfoy blacking out from Harry’s punch and sliding off his broom.

Time seemed to slow, allowing Ginny to make a couple of assessments. The first one being that she hadn’t known Harry could throw a punch like that. The second, and arguably the most important, was that the Great White Ferret was falling to his death and, as the seconds ticked by, it became obvious that she was the only one close enough to do anything about it. So she did.

She barely had to think before her arm shot out and grabbed him by the back of his robes. The extra weight pulled her broom closer to the ground, but she kept her thigh muscles tight around the wood and used both hands to stabilise him. The descent was slowed as the crowd applauded her for her heroism.

Time sped faster after that. The teachers were already converging on the pitch with Madam Pomfrey in the centre and some other adults she didn’t know in the back. Everyone was rushing by and then Malfoy was levitated back to the castle. The game continued. Slytherin’s reserve Seeker made a fool of himself and Harry quickly caught the Snitch. There was barely any applause, though, and what was supposed to be a great match ended up giving Ginny a bad taste in her mouth.

‘

There were a few things Draco noticed when he came to. First was his father. Lucius was standing near the foot of his bed and looked  _ pissed _ . The second thing was that he was in the Hospital Wing. Nowhere else had that particular smell of health potions and cleaning spells. The third and last thing he noticed was that the headache he’d been complaining about was infinitely worse and, by then, that was the only thing he could focus on.

“Fuck.” His hand met his head and felt around his still tender nose.

Madam Pomfrey was immediately on him, forcing terrible tasting potions down his throat and waving her wand around his nose. When his headache got a little better, he was able to hear the conversation going on.

“I demand the boy be properly punished.”

“Come now, Lucius. Mr. Potter has already been given detentions,” the headmaster responded.

“He should be tried for assault,” a pompous voice called from behind his father, and Draco guessed it was from one of the more brownnosing members of the Board.

“Ah, but that would be the same thing as to assume that Mr. Malfoy didn’t provoke Mr. Potter,” the headmaster said, showing off his typical favouritism for Potter.

“Potter showed complete disregard for my son’s life, Headmaster. The least that should be done is to strip him of his captaincy.” 

Draco knew that tone of voice. It was the same one his father used to discipline him and it still left him feeling chastised even if it hadn’t been directed at him.

“Very well, Lucius. Although, you should know that I can’t let Draco go unpunished. It would set a bad example for the rest of the students. It was clear that Harry had been provoked.

“What kind of punishment do you have in mind, Headmaster?” 

“A month of detentions should do it.”

Draco knew that his father was getting progressively pissed. Normally, he would have gladly sat back and watched the spectacle unfold, but today he was just not in the mood. Madam Pomfrey was still working on his nose, his headache hadn’t gone away, and he just didn’t want to deal with his father’s manipulating right now. So he intervened.

“A month sounds appropriate, Professor.” He cleared his throat and looked around the fat figure of the school’s nurse to the old man. “I must apologise for my behaviour. It was most unfitting of a Head Boy and team captain. I will take whatever punishment you see fit.” 

The words were polite, but they were also a reminder to his father of his accomplishments. That he was still coming out of this on top never hurt either.

His father frowned at him as Madam Pomfrey finished her work and began clean up duty. Lucius looked well and truly pissed and it made Draco hesitant for a second. But one thing he’d learned from his father was how important connections were. So what if his father always said Dumbledore was an old coot who should be retired. The reality was that this old coot was the headmaster and Head of the Wizengamot, and if Draco wanted to intern as secretary for the Minister of Magic that summer, he had to suck it up and endure the old fartbag.

“Ah, Draco,” The old man looked at him from above his half-moon spectacles. “It’s good to see you’ve awakened.”

“A month of detentions is completely out of proportion. My son already has a broken nose; there is absolutely no need for such a stain on his records.” 

Well, no one could say his father gave up easily.

“Very well,” the headmaster began, and Draco suddenly felt uneasy to see that particular gleam in the professor’s eyes. “Perhaps we can come to an agreement.”

“I’m listening.” His father motioned impatiently with his gloved hand.

“There is a sixth-year student in need of tutoring for Potions who could benefit from young Mr. Malfoy’s help in the subject.”

Draco barely had to think this through. It would prevent a month’s worth of detentions from showing up on his records when he applied for the internship and even possibly increase his chances of getting in. Tutoring was good to have on your CV, right? Kind of like charity and shit?

He spoke up before his father could.

“That is a great idea, Professor. Thank you for this opportunity.” He met his father’s gaze but had to lower his eyes when he saw the flicker of annoyance. His eyes met the Headmaster’s instead and that gave him pause. 

The almost mischievous glint he saw in the old coot's eyes was enough to send a shiver of apprehension down his spine. What had he gotten himself into?

.

Ginny looked at the spiral stairs behind the gargoyle worriedly. The last time she’d been in the Headmaster’s office was in her first year after she blackmailed the twins into letting her into one of their more malicious pranks. She’d ran as fast as she could when they had heard Filch approaching, but in the end Mrs. Norris had found her hiding place. She thought she had done a good job of playing it off and ending up with only a detention for being out past curfew.

Ginny had learned a valuable lesson that day and that was to never get caught again.

Today she felt irrational fear as she set up the steps. Maybe this was about that prank against McLaggen last week? It wasn’t her fault he was being a troll and needed to be taught a lesson. But no, she had made sure that particular incident couldn’t be traced back to her, and surely the Headmaster had better things to worry about that Saturday.

Harry had  _ punched _ Malfoy straight off his broom. And she knew Malfoy’s dad had been in school earlier that day. She frowned when she thought about how much he could make Harry’s life a living hell, even with all the influence her friend had. It was no use to ponder on it any longer, though. She’d arrived.

“Ah, Ms. Weasley. Glad you could make it,” Professor Dumbledore said, as if he hadn’t basically ordered her to his office. 

He was sitting on the plush chair behind the large mahogany table with his hands crossed on top of it. And Professor McGonagall was there next to him. Ginny inwardly began to go through all the reasons for both her headmaster and head of house wanting to speak to her.

“Professor…” She tried to muster some courage to give them a polite response, but only managed a short nod of acknowledgement.

“Lemon drop?” he offered with a casual swing of his hand towards a crystal recipient full of yellow candy.

“Uh, no.” Ginny stared at the old professors with wide eyes before rushing to finish. “Thank you, Professor.”

“You must be wondering why you were called here today.” He looked at her over his half-moon spectacles with a benign smile that calmed some of her nerves.

Ginny didn’t have time to reply because, apparently, Professor McGonagall couldn’t take too much of small talk.

“Mr. Potter got stripped of his captaincy this morning and barely kept his position as Seeker.” She looked out the window, frowning in the direction of the pitch. “And got a month’s worth of detentions, of course.”

Ginny’s eyebrows climbed up her forehead. “Harry got demoted?” She shook her head slightly. “Does that mean McLaggen is captain now?” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. The team would be fine in his hands, but that didn’t mean she liked the jerk.

“Not exactly, Ms. Weasley,” the headmaster said with a small smile. “We were, in fact, considering you for the role.”

“Me?”

This was everything she’d ever hoped to hear, but she had figured it probably wouldn’t happen until her last year. There were other players who had seniority over her, even if they didn’t surpass her in skill. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Yes, Ms. Weasley. You.” Professor Dumbledore chuckled under his breath before he crushed her hopes. “The only condition is for you to have passing grades in Potions. From what I hear from Professor Slughorn, you are almost failing the subject.”

“But, Professor,” Ginny pleaded, “I don’t think I’m going to take my N.E.W.T.s for Potions. I don’t even need it if I’m going to be in the Harpies!”

“Very well,” the old man said, lifting her spirits completely before crushing them yet again. “If being captain isn’t that important to you, I will give the position to Mr. McLaggen. Perhaps I should reconsider things and take you off the team entirely. Surely the extra time would do your grades some good.”

“Professor, you can’t!” Ginny was flabbergasted. Never in all her life would she have imagined herself in this situation. One look at the raised eyebrow of her headmaster told her he wasn’t kidding. “All right! Fine, I’ll get my grades up.”

“Wonderful, Ms. Weasley! Truly wonderful.” The old man clapped his hands together, and she could barely refrain herself from glaring at him. “Your tutor will be Draco Malfoy. You are to meet him this Monday after dinner in Dungeon Five and once more this week. The tutoring should happen for two hours, twice a week. I’m sure the both of you can arrange some time that is convenient for you both.”

Ginny couldn't form a single sentence. Scratch that, she couldn’t form a single sentence that didn’t contain one curse word. Or seven. What had she ever done to deserve this? She almost called the whole thing off and gave up, but she couldn’t give up Quidditch. It was her life. Ever since she was a little girl, she knew she wanted to be like Gwenog Jones. She knew she could make it to the Holyhead Harpies.

“Are you sure you can’t assign me another tutor?” She knew she was grasping at straws. “Harry?” She cringed even before the name was out of her mouth.

“Very well now, Ms. Weasley. Off you go. I have another appointment with a student who’ll be here anytime now.”

Apparently her question wasn’t even worthy of a reply. Fighting back a monumental sigh, Ginny got up and moved to the exit before her temper got the best of her. Or worse. Before she  _ cried _ .

When she was about to descend the stairs, she accidentally bumped into someone coming up. “Oops, sorry,” she said, steadying herself on strong arms. 

She had half a second to recognise Draco Malfoy before he seemed to do the same and instantly sneered at her.

“Watch it, Weasel.” He let her go so abruptly she almost lost her balance again.

“Hey, you should be thanking me, not being your usual gittish self, Ferret.”

“Thank you for almost head butting me down the stairs?” He raised an incredulous eyebrow at her.

Ginny stared bewildered at him. “No one told you?”

“No one told me what?” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Never mind. I don’t have time for this.” He moved past her, but she didn’t let him go any further.

“I caught you before you fell today.” She saw him pause with his back still to her. “You wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for me.” 

It was with great pleasure that she saw his shoulders tense. Pureblood tradition dictated that he now owed her a life debt. Her family wasn’t exactly all into tradition, but his definitely was. That would teach him.

He turned his face towards her so she could see his aristocratic profile and the mocking smirk gracing his lips. “Do you want a medal for that?” 

And with that he was gone.

He entered Dumbledore’s office, leaving her with an open mouth in disbelief. What an arsehole! With an angry huff, she turned away from the door and started making her way back to the pitch. She needed to work off some steam.

.

  
  


At first, Draco had thought that tutoring was not exactly a great idea—he wouldn’t go that far—but maybe a not so bad one. He could keep a month’s worth of detentions off his records, which was great. He also escaped the fate of having almost every Saturday occupied, which would have been absolute hell. Almost all the parties at Hogwarts were on Saturdays, and Draco was  _ sure  _ the old coot knew that.

There was even a bonus of having tutoring written down on his curriculum vitae; it surely couldn’t hurt when applying for the undersecretary internship.

He had been wrong. It was bad and it did hurt. It was worse than he could have possibly imagined because the old fartbag had given him  _ Ginny Weasley _ as a student. They had to meet twice every week and the redheaded heathen had to have passing grades come the midterms in late January. That meant two whole months with her. Detentions were sounding like heaven. 

He didn’t have much to say about the stupid bint other than that she was a stupid Gryffindor with far too many freckles and far too little influence in society. That is, if you didn’t count the whole stupid Order of the Phoenix bullshit. Which he certainly didn’t.

He didn’t know much about her, but one thing he did know. She was the Weasley Git’s baby sister, and that alone was enough to make him hate her. 

With a great sigh, Draco reclined against the headrest of the tub in his private Head Boy quarters.

Her last parting words were troubling. If it was true and she had indeed saved him from the fall, then he was indebted to her. A life debt. The kind that was branded into his magic and hers, and also the kind he couldn’t ignore. 

He needed to find out if it was true. He needed to find someone to tell him what exactly had happened. But that could wait until he finished his bath.

.

It was true.

According to Blaise, he’d gotten knocked out cold and if it hadn’t been for the Chaser who’d been strategically positioned beneath them, he would be dead.

Now, he didn’t know the exact specifics regarding life debts and neither did he want to research that. What he did know was that the least he could do was to not antagonise her and to actually have something prepared to teach her come Monday. 

And that’s what he did.

Draco spent the rest of his Saturday going through last year’s notes and familiarising himself with the sixth-year curriculum again. It was all ridiculously simple to him, but he guessed not everyone else had the same genes.

By the time Monday came, he wasn’t any more ready to have to spend two hours with the younger girl, but he had at least gotten his resentment under control. Mostly.

He had dinner as slowly as he could, even going as far as to enthusiastically engage in the conversation going on around him. Before long, it was time to go, so he turned to Pansy.

“All right, love.” He kissed her on the lips and was glad that it got her to stop talking. “I have to go now. See you tomorrow.”He left before she could say anything else.

He went down the familiar path to the dungeons, but instead of turning left to go to his rooms, he turned right. At the end of the hall was Dungeon Five. The classroom had been where he’d found his passion in Potions. It was in his third year, back when Professor Snape was still a teacher before the older man had retired.

The good thing about the classroom was that, despite it often being dirty from where the first to third years practiced, there was an unused office connected to it. Draco gingerly crossed the stained floor to where the other door in the room was and entered, leaving both doors open so Weasley could see him when she came in. 

His nose wrinkled in disgust at the sight that met him. The whole floor was filled with dust and the ceiling with cobwebs. There was a sofa on the far left that he reckoned used to be Slytherin green, a settee next to it and across from both, a desk. All of which were suspiciously clean.

He narrowed his eyes. He’d never used this particular room for these kind of activities, but he knew what it meant. This was a hookup spot. Just his luck.

With an annoyed huff and an agitated hand running through his platinum-blond hair, Draco made his way towards the chair behind the desk and sat down. He figured that was the safest place. He turned around almost lazily and set the fire going in the fireplace before crossing his hands over his stomach and preparing to wait.

And wait he did.

It must have been at least fifteen minutes before he gave up any pretence at patience and got up to pace around the room. She was making him  _ wait _ . When he was about to give up and go to his rooms, he heard footsteps coming closer. Ginny Weasley entered the office.

“You’re late,” he ground through his teeth while giving her his best glower.

It appeared that she wasn’t the kind of girl to take any shit, because she immediately glared right back at him. “I’m not late.”

“Yes, you are. Professor Dumbledore clearly said that we were to meet here after dinner.”

“Dinner isn’t over yet.” She looked at him as if he was crazy.

Oh. Well. In that case.

“It’s common courtesy to arrive at least ten minutes before a set time.” He looked down his nose at her.

“Which I did.” She rolled her brown eyes. “Not that you deserve any type of courtesy, but it’s still fifteen minutes before dinner ends.”

He actually had no response. Not that he would ever admit it, so he just sniffed and returned to his safe chair. Draco watched her as she looked around the room and wrinkled her nose just as he had before.

“This place is nasty.”

And with simple waves of her wand, all the dust and cobwebs vanished. 

“How did you do that?” He tried to hide the astonishment in his voice and was quite happy that he succeeded.

“It’s just a simple  _ Scourgify _ .” She frowned at him. “Have you never done a cleaning spell in your life?”

Draco scoffed. “That’s what house-elves are for.” He was amused by the weird face she made at him, but his features remained stoic as ever. “Maybe you should clean those too.” He pointed towards the furniture he had avoided earlier.

“I’m not your servant,” she snapped, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Clearly.” He shrugged at her angry huff. “Suit yourself. I’m not the one that’ll have to indirectly come into contact with other people’s arses.”

“What?” she asked him blankly. 

“Look around you.” A smirk crawled up his face. “The only previously clean things in the room were this table, the sofa and the settee.” When she continued to look at him with the same blank expression on her face, he huffed annoyedly. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re a prude.”

Weasley’s face contorted in horror as she finally realised to what he was alluding. “You mean, this—ugh.” 

Her nose wrinkled again and she even shook her head a bit. Draco found himself fighting back a laugh. Even though he had decided that he would treat her civilly, it didn’t mean he would give her any familiarity.

The girl used her wand to clean everything at least twice before she sat down in the chair opposite him with a very unladylike huff that made the tiny strands that had fallen free from her ponytail bounce. Draco pretended he hadn’t been staring at her and dug out his old notes.

“Here is everything I have on sixth-year Potions.” 

Weasley raised an eyebrow at the not at all impressive amount of parchment in his hands. “That’s it?” she asked suspiciously. 

The nerve of her.

“Yes, that’s it. Read it, study it, and if you have any questions, don’t ask me.” 

There. He figured that was civil enough, right? He  _ had _ managed not to make any comments on how ridiculously easy Potions was. With that, he dug out his Transfiguration homework and proceeded to ignore her for the next hour. Until he finally had enough of her sighs, that is.

“What, Weasley?” He scowled at his half-written essay.

“This isn’t working.” She dropped his notes carelessly on the desk. “It doesn’t make sense for teachers to ask us to do this ridiculously difficult potion that nobody can actually do right! What is even the point of this shit?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “The point isn’t to get it right. It’s to familiarise students with different types of procedures.”

“Why doesn’t he just ask us to do the ingredients preparation and be done with it?” She frowned at him, her brown eyes reflecting her frustration like an open book.

“I reckon Slughorn thinks it’s supposed to show us the intricacies of potion making.” Draco shrugged. “Besides, the only potion he actually asks you to make in the first term is the Draught of Living Death. Wait until you get to poisons.  _ Then _ you’ll have a hard time.”

And with that he was done with chit chat and went back to his homework. It wasn’t even a full minute, however, before another sigh came from the other side of the desk. 

Draco took a deep breath and gave the redhead a bored look. “Study the ingredients and how they react, Weasley. The rest will come much easier if you know that by heart.” 

He pretended not to watch as she scoured her book and frowned unhappily.

“There isn’t anything about the ingredients in this,” she complained.

Draco hummed in response and waited for her annoyed huff before saying anything. “There’s a book in the library called Magical Ingredients by Arsenius Jigger. He’s the one who wrote the textbook we used in our first year and is a much better writer than the baboon who wrote our sixth and seventh-year books.” Draco took a deep breath and gathered all the patience he had. “Bring it the next time we meet and I’ll walk you through it.”

She-Weasel looked at him half in incredulity and half in relief. Draco noticed for the first time that her uniform tie was missing and the top few buttons of her blouse were unbuttoned. The skin revealed was surprisingly captivating to look at except for the tiny spot he found there. He was shaken out of his thoughts when he realised she was nodding.

“Okay.” She bit the inside of her lower lip. “I have a free period Wednesday after lunch.”

Draco scowled a bit at how she said it. It sounded too much like they were simply setting up a time to see each other and not like they had been practically forced into this. It was no use getting worked up over it, though, so he decided to let it go.

“Me too, but I have Quidditch practice. Thursday after dinner?”

“That’s when the pitch is booked for my team.” Weasley shook her head at him. “Friday, then?”

Draco fought a wince. Pansy usually spent Friday nights in his dorm with him and she didn’t take well to having her plans cancelled. He knew it had to be Friday, though, because otherwise they would have to meet on the weekend, and that was something he did  _ not _ want to ever happen.

“Fine.” He got up and started putting his stuff back in his Italian leather messenger bag. “Keep the notes for now, but I want them back in one piece when this is over.”

He didn’t wait for her reply and simply left the classroom without a backwards glance.

.

.

.

**Steph's Prompt #2**

**Basic premise:** Sixth-year Ginny Weasley must raise her potions grade or be suspended from the quidditch team. Draco Malfoy is her tutor.

**Must haves:** loads of snark and sexual tension, enemies to lovers

**No-no's:** extreme ooc **,** Ginny being a total harpy (and I don't mean the pro quidditch kind)

**Rating range:** T-M

**Bonus points:** Ron blustering about a Malfoy tutoring his baby sister, and Ginny defending Draco (even though she's just as unhappy about it as Ron)

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Dungeon Five Ch. 2**

  
  
  


Draco was right about Pansy. She was completely livid when he said that he would have to cancel their usual Friday night hangout. 

“And is there a reason for you to ditch me on our date night?” Pansy basically screeched as she went about collecting her clothes around his room. She put on each piece aggressively as if they had done something against her.

“The old fool assigned me the baby weasel for tutoring because of my last … conversation with Four Eyes.” Draco stretched beneath his silk bedsheets and put a hand between his head and pillow to see the dark-haired girl better.

“So you’re telling me”—she turned to him wearing only the bottom part of her uniform and a vicious glare, her stylish bob in complete disarray—“that you couldn’t teach the red harlot any other day of the week?”

“Yes, Pansy.” He sighed impatiently. “Our schedules didn’t match this week.”

“Your—“ She huffed in disbelief. “Your schedules  _ don’t _ match! I’m your schedule!” 

Draco winced at her screech and sat up in bed. “You’re being unreasonable, Pans.”

He saw her reaching for the pillow that he had used to prop her hips on minutes before and just barely managed to dodge as it was aimed straight at his head.

“ _ I’m _ being unreasonable?” Pansy finished putting on her shirt and huffed angrily. “Do you even know what day this Friday is?”

By her expression, he was sure he was supposed to know, but try as he might, he couldn’t remember anything important. “No,” Draco said with a sigh, and got up to at least put his boxers on. He felt that this conversation was walking towards something that he didn’t want to go through without any pants on.

“It’s our anniversary, Draco!” She threw her hands in the air. 

“Our anniversary is on the second, Pans.” He turned to her after putting on his grey silk pyjama pants and was actually surprised to find tears in her eyes. Tears and Pansy weren’t something that were supposed to be in the same sentence unless the sentence was: Pansy brought someone to tears.

“You don’t count breaks! Our original anniversary has been the twenty-second ever since we were in fourth year, Draco!” She sniffed and something tugged on his chest at the sight of her. “Don’t you care about me?”

“Stop blowing this out of proportion, love,” Draco tried to reason with her. “You’re my best friend. Of course I care about you. And, besides, I’ll make it up to you.”

He crossed the distance between them and took her face in his hands before pressing his lips to hers. Pansy leaned against him before her long fingers came to rest on his chest to push him slightly away.

“I can’t keep doing this to myself,” she whispered against his lips, almost as if to herself, and Draco finally had enough.

Ever since the end of fourth year, they had broken up and gotten back together at least seven times. It was always the same thing. Pansy got too overbearing, Draco lost his patience, they fought, broke up, hooked up with other people, and ended up back together a few weeks later. The thing was, they really were best friends and the sex was good. It was hard to remember sometimes that they weren’t actually together. Falling into bed again was easy.

She pushed him away completely and turned her back to him.

“What the fuck, Pansy?” 

She already had her bag in her hands and her feet almost out the door when she turned around with tear tracks on her tanned cheeks. “We’re over, Draco.” Her voice was kind of hoarse and the look in her eyes wasn’t one he’d ever seen before.

Draco could only watch as the door closed behind her. This didn’t feel like all the other times they’d broken up. Those had always happened with lots of screams and things thrown around. And Pansy had never looked as heartbroken as she had just a few minutes before.

With a sigh, he made a beeline for his bathroom. What he needed in that moment was a very hot shower. 

  
  


.

  
  
  


It was dinner Friday night and Pansy had yet to speak to him. There was no obvious attempts at getting his attention, like usual. No subtle glances and not so subtle touches. Draco wouldn’t go as far as to say that he was worried, but things surely weren’t going as he thought they would.

He sat in front of Blaise and tried not to frown when he saw her sitting with Daphne a few seats down without even looking at him.

“You two broke up again?” his friend asked, unworried as he twirled some pasta.

Draco hummed but said nothing else. He was about to go back to his dinner when movement from the Gryffindor table caught his attention. The She-Weasel was making her way out of the Great Hall. One look at his watch showed that he was cutting it close on the time, so he went about drinking the rest of his pumpkin juice and got his things ready to go.

“Do you need to be somewhere?” Blaise raised an eyebrow at him.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Draco nodded at the cinnamon-skinned boy and left it at that.

He followed several paces behind the redhead and in no time at all they were in Dungeon Five.

“Are you going to keep on following me like a creep?” Weasley asked when they entered the office, without even looking at him.

Draco scoffed. “I wasn’t following you. We were heading in the same direction.” 

The girl shot him a look when she put her things on the table and sat down on the chair she had used on their first meeting. 

“What?” he said. “Would you prefer we left the Great Hall together?” He sat down across from her, and she snorted.

“Not yet.” She shrugged. “But if we’re going to the same place, it makes sense to walk together, right?”

“Not yet?” He ignored her question.

“Well...” She winced a bit. “Ron doesn’t know yet.”

“Ah.” Draco smirked. “Would the Big Twit be angry?”

“Don’t call him that!”

He leaned against the back of the chair and raised an eyebrow at her. “Why didn’t you tell him?” 

“Ron would make a big deal out of this, and I honestly don’t need the extra drama in my life.” Weasley opened the book he’d recommended she get.. “This book is really well-written.”

“Hmm.” Draco nodded, allowing her to change the subject. “If you cross reference using that with the ingredients in the potions you’re having problems with, your life will be much easier. When is your next assignment due?”

He watched as she bit the end of her quill and tried not to scowl at how unsanitary it looked.

“Next Thursday.” She frowned at the book in front of her as if it was Slughorn himself.

“Right.” He briefly looked at her before opening up his own homework .“Start it right now. Only a simple sketch of where you want to take it. I’ll help you from there.”

And for the next hour, the only sounds were from their quills on the parchment and her occasional nibbling.

“Uh, Malfoy?” 

He looked up from his notes, almost startled, and saw that she was bitting her lower lip uncertainly. 

“I think I’m done.”

“You think?” He challenged with a raised eyebrow and dry tone of voice.

“I am finished.” She frowned confrontationally at him before shoving her parchment in his direction.

Draco smoothed it out and started reading. And proceeded to have his mind blown. Who the fuck knew Baby Weasel was hiding some brains behind that garish red head of hers?

He could understand now why she had trouble with Potions. It was a pretty straightforward subject: you follow a recipe and get an expected result, and if you don’t, you screw up. But the thing was, there was little space for critical thinking and experimenting and that, apparently, was where the Gryffindor in front of him seemed to be particularly skilled. The essay was on the different possibilities that could come if one or two ingredients were changed in the potions they’d studied so far that year, and it looked like she had sound foundation for how to write it.

“This looks good,” he said at last. “Not at all work from someone who is failing Potions.”

“Yeah.” She huffed in annoyance to try and hide the satisfaction on her face. “The thing is I’m bad at  _ brewing _ potions.”

“There’s a  _ recipe.”  _ He looked incredulously at her. “It’s just like cooking. You follow the instructions and get the results.”

“Yeah, well, the last time I tried to cook anything, I managed to scorch the kitchen wall.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Draco looked at her in amusement before handing her essay back and directing her on where to find the information she would need to get at least an Exceeds Expectations. They worked in surprisingly companionable silence for a while before their two hours were up.

“Can we agree on Wednesday afternoon?” He asked casually while putting his things away.

“Yeah.” She tightened her ponytail and turned to him. “Is three okay?” 

They started walking out of the classroom.

“That’s fine.”

They didn’t pause in the hallway outside, each taking their different paths as Weasley called without looking back, “See you.”

  
  


.

  
  


It was finally Saturday and Draco wanted nothing more than to head to whatever party the students had come up with and get shit-faced drunk. Pansy breaking up with him had taken away the easy sex from his night, but maybe he could woo some other girl when he got there.

Blaise and him went together, as usual, to one of the abandoned towers where there were lots of rooms and lots of space for dancing. They were instantly bombarded with the loud bass of some Weird Sisters song when they crossed the magical sound barrier. 

Today, it was mostly the older students, and it seemed that his and Blaise’s ”fashionably late” style had been borderline “you got here too late and everybody else is drunk or passed out”. No matter. He could see a big table in the corner filled with drinks, and that’s where he was headed.

Draco quickly downed three shots of some subpar firewhisky before pouring a generous cup and nursing it slowly. He turned around to offer Zabini some, but ended up getting a free show of his friend’s abs as a sixth-year Ravenclaw snogged him senselessly and eagerly bunched Blaise’s shirt up in his grasp.

Well, that was fast.

Sometimes, Draco envied his friend’s bisexuality. In every party, he was always the first one to hook up, but this had been just ridiculous.

He rolled his eyes at the scene and went to mingle. Two glasses later and he saw Lizzie Chambers, a Chaser for the Ravenclaw team, and someone who had graced his sheets once. She immediately smiled at him when their eyes connected and started to make her way towards him.

Or tried to.

It was clear by the way she was walking that she’d had way too much to drink. Draco was halfway there, though, so when she finally caught up to him and leaned against him suggestively, it was pretty easy to slant his mouth over hers and weave his free hand through her hair.

It wasn’t exactly a bad kiss. Not really. It was actually pretty nice. Her tongue was warm against his as she pressed her breasts against his chest and her lips were just full enough so he could enjoy nibbling. The thing was, the brunette in his arms was  _ bloody drunk, _ and he had no desire for a lay that the girl wouldn’t even remember in the morning. So he parted their lips, took her to a sofa nearby, and conjured a glass of water for her before leaving.

Suddenly, the music was too loud and the place too small for so many people. He had no idea why, but he needed to get out of there. After grabbing a bottle from the table, he headed for the hallways where the rooms were and tried to find one unlocked.

The third one on his right had the door ajar, so Draco peered inside to assess the situation. What he saw made his jaw drop.

There was Ginny Weasley on top of one of the Gryffindor Beaters, with his hand up her skirt. And she had no shirt on.

For a short while his brain seemed to have short-circuited, but then it was over and he was suddenly just taking everything in. The way her neck arched when whatshisface sucked on it and exposed that one beauty mark he’d seen during their first lesson was fascinating. Her skin was smooth and barely tanned and a few freckles danced on the very top of her shoulders. The purple bra she was wearing hugged the modest curve of her breasts perfectly, and her lips parted with the most sensual of sighs as the boy’s dark hands brought her skirt up with them.

It was as if Weasley had been electrocuted, because suddenly she was on her feet, shaking her head and saying something along the lines of, ”Sorry, this can’t happen,” but Draco couldn’t be sure. He was already halfway down the hall back to the party, not exactly running, but pretty close to it.

He didn’t stop until he reached the Head Boy’s quarters, and even then his heart was still racing in his chest.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Dungeon Five Ch. 3**

  
  
  


Ginny finished her lunch in a rush. She had apparently gotten out of bed on the wrong foot, because today just wasn’t her day.

She had tons of work to do and her usual free period would be occupied by Malfoy. Not that he had been half as bad as she was expecting him to be. Yeah, he was a bit of a tosser, but he  _ was _ helping her out and being a surprisingly good tutor.

She thought of all the things she had to get done before her lesson today and hurried her pace.

When she got to the common room, she chose one of the tables closer to the fire and immediately got to work. As the time passed, the other seats got taken, but she still managed to keep her table to herself. Before Ron and Harry got there, that is.

“Hullo, Gin,” her brother greeted, as Harry and him sat down across from her.

“Can’t talk right now, Ron. I have my lesson in ten minutes.” 

Ginny realised her mistake as soon as she made it. She didn’t even bother to hide her wince when Ron asked what lesson she was supposed to have “Professor Dumbledore assigned me a Potions tutor…” 

“I could have helped you if you needed help in Potions,” Harry said with a slightly disapproving tone.

“I was honestly intending to drop the class.” Ginny shrugged. “But Dumbledore said he would take me off the team if I didn’t do it, so…”

“That sounds awfully unfair of him,” Ron said while setting up a game of wizard’s chess for him and Harry. “Who did you get saddled with?”

“Funny thing that.” Ginny tried to stall but ultimately decided to just say it quickly and get it over with. “Malfoy is tutoring me.”

“Why would Dumbledore punish you with that—that Ferret!” her brother exclaimed.

“Actually, he’s not  _ that _ bad.” Ginny shrugged again. “He does seem to know a lot about Potions, even if he can be a bit of an arse sometimes.”

There was absolute silence as her brother and Harry gaped at her before demanding to know how Malfoy could possibly not be “that bad”. They listed all of his faults—as if she wasn’t aware that Malfoy was hardly the paragon of niceness—and prodded and prodded for information, wanting to know everything about what went on during her lessons. It felt like she was being interrogated or somehow accused of betrayal just for saying the git wasn’t “that bad”. In short, it was utterly ridiculous. 

  
  


“Oh, enough!” she snapped. “I’m the one who has to take lessons with him, not you, so what difference does it make? Just shut up already!”

She left before either could reply, now late for her lesson, and still fuming… So of course she got stuck in the moving staircase because she was distracted. Today  _ really  _ wasn’t her day.

.

  
  


Draco was in a bad mood. He wouldn’t go as far as to say he was sulking, no matter what Zabini said, but he was definitely not in the mood for socialising. And it was all  _ her _ fault.

Ginny Weasley with her purple bra and smooth skin was a constant in his dreams of late. Her breathy, sexy sigh and that bloody  _ beauty spot _ . He couldn’t sleep well, he couldn’t pay much attention to class and—fuck—he couldn’t even think about her before his dick decided it needed attention.

It was like puberty all over again, and he  _ hated _ it.

His first reaction was to try to ignore it, as he usually did with things he didn’t want to deal with. That didn’t work too well because it was as if his thoughts were a She-Weasel magnet and suddenly she was in every corner he turned. That only served to make him more pissed. His bad mood continued mounting until it was Wednesday and their lesson fast approaching. Draco decided he wouldn’t get there early because the less time he had to spend next to her, the better. Instead, by the time lunch had finished, he went by the lockers to get his broom and flew as far away from Hogwarts as he could without triggering the wards.

The wind on his face did help him calm down a bit, but the reprieve was short-lived. By the time the first drop of water hit him, he knew this had been a bad idea. 

When Draco got to the castle, he was sopping wet and had no time to go back to his rooms to take a hot shower. He dried himself as best as he could with his wand as he made his way down to the dungeons. A quick check on his watch told him he was fifteen minutes late. If his steps quickened a little at that, no one would know.

He entered the office fully expecting to have an angry redhead waiting for him, but was met with silence. She wasn’t there.

His previously contained anger came back in full force as he set his things down on the table and began pacing. Ten minutes passed in which he furiously checked his watch every few seconds before Weasley burst into the room with apologies already spilling from her rosy lips. That thought irritated him even further, and Draco found himself cutting her off briskly.

“Where the fuck were you?” 

She scowled at him. “I lost track of time and accidentally got stuck on the stairs on my way down.” She shrugged and put her things next to his. “Sorry about that.”

“Are you a bloody first year?” He rounded on her faster than a snake uncoiling for attack. “I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re failing Potions, you daft bint, and I’m the one who is supposed to keep that from happening. That is, if you actually show up in time!”

“I don’t know what got your knickers in a twist, Malfoy, but you better reign your temper the fuck in before I punch you.” She advanced towards him with a deadly expression in her eyes. 

Draco fucking knew he shouldn’t say anything, but he did it anyway. “You can’t solve everything with your fists, you bloody trollop—“

And then he had her tiny fist on his mouth. 

For a girl that could barely reach his shoulders, she packed a mean punch. Blood immediately spurted from his lower lip and dripped down his chin to ruin his shirt. The pain was immediate, and Draco fell back on his chair with the force of the impact.

“Good Godric!” Weasley gaped at him. “I didn’t mean to hit you so hard!”

Her warm little hands now reached for his jaw gently to angle it upwards so she could see the damage. 

“Fuck,” he grunted when her thumb brushed his lower lip.

“I’m sorry.” She winced. “I’m having a really bad day and, well, you started insulting me and I’ve had enough of that today, and I just felt like hitting something and I did, which is why your face looks like…”

She trailed off and glanced apologetically at him. Draco tried hard to keep on being mad, but it seemed like her punch had drained him of all his anger and all he was left with was a troublesome realisation: he was attracted to the She-Weasel. And right now she had one hand on his jaw while the other moved her wand around his mouth and closed his wound, so he decided to suck it up and be a man about it.

And by that he meant he would ignore said realisation and pretend nothing happened.

“Yeah, well.” He sighed in resignation. “My day just got a lot worse.”

Weasley didn’t say anything, just continued working on his lip. Her hair was in a ponytail and she had to stop from time to time to blow the flyaway hairs from her face. Draco found it extremely distracting.

After what seemed like no time at all, and somehow all the time in the world, she was done.

“Take off your shirt. I can get it cleaned up.” She stepped back and stretched her hand out for him.

“That’s what house-elves are for,” Draco said, mostly to see what her reaction would be.

She huffed. “Do you want to walk through Hogwarts with blood on your shirt?”

The eyebrow she raised at him was equal parts annoying and endearing, and he didn’t even bother to fight with himself over the latter.

“Whatever, Weasley.” Draco rolled his eyes and started loosening his tie. He spared a moment to be mad that he had decided to put on a sleeveless shirt beneath his school shirt that morning, but then shook the thought away. It wouldn’t do to be half naked in the same room as her when the image of her moaning and shirtless was still so fresh in his mind.

  
  


She worked in silence for a while, his shirt on the table and her bent over it in concentration as he pretended not to watch as he catalogued every detail he could. From this close, he could see that her freckles crossed her nose and cheeks and extended up in the direction of her temples slightly. 

She was working her bottom lip in concentration and, for the first time, Draco saw how perfect it was. She didn’t have the forced pouty look so many girls went for; instead, the nuances of her lips were subtle. Her cupids bow wasn’t really defined but her upper lip was full and rosy and jutted out just a tiny bit more than her bottom one. Draco caught himself thinking if certain other parts below her clothes matched the same hue as her lips.

“Malfoy?” 

He looked at her in surprise when she turned to him with an expectant look on her face. “What?”

“I asked if you would like to go over my essay now.” She extended his shirt back to him. “Your shirt is done.”

Draco saw her eyes follow the lines of his arms when he took the piece of fabric from her, and he couldn’t help but flex his muscles a bit. Who was he to deny her visual appreciation of his Seeker build, after all? 

As soon as the thought came, he looked up at her and saw the smallest of frowns appear between her dark red brows. A contemplative look crossed her face and she finally raised her eyes to meet his. Weasley cocked her head a bit to the side as if she was trying to figure something out, but what Draco was really interested in were her eyes.

They were the same colour as his favourite brand of Firewhisky, and for a moment he got lost in their depths. Then he realised what a fucking sentimental fool he was being and quickly turned away.

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “Let me have a look at that.”

And then they were finally back to business.

Draco corrected her essay and directed her on how to better develop some paragraphs, then handed it back to her. The book he took out to work on his own studying may as well have been upside down for all the reading he got done, though. Every time she made even the tiniest of movements, his attention went right back to her. She leaned her head on her hand and her bloody beauty spot was on full display. She mouthed the words she was reading and her lips formed entrancing shapes. She bit her quill in that disgusting, unhygienic habit of hers and—Merlin’s saggy left balls—he was  _ hard _ as a fucking rock.

He was really glad the session was finally over, because Sweet Salazar, she was a Weasley and he couldn’t stop conjuring the image of her without her clothes. He needed to get laid,  _ urgently. _

  
  


.

The opportunity presented itself that Saturday. 

Ravenclaw had whipped the floor with Hufflepuff’s team and, as usual, there was going to be a party that night somewhere in the castle. It happened after every Quidditch game, be it to celebrate one team’s win or to console the other team’s loss. That night, the party was in the Hufflepuff common room.

Draco personally thought it was pretty classless for the house to just open up their common room like that. Usually, whenever Slytherin decided to throw a party in their common room, it was mostly reserved for their house and only specific students from other houses were invited. 

However, he really couldn’t complain because today he needed this party.

He hadn’t been able to properly pursue Pansy that week. It seemed like every time he saw her, she was with someone else. No matter how much glaring he did, she wasn’t left alone. 

Draco was unused to having to work this hard for Pansy, and it was seriously beginning to piss him off. He wasn’t in the mood to go find some other girl to warm his bed, and he needed the distraction  _ right now _ . So that party was a blessing.

When Draco and Blaise got there, the party was already in full swing. The Huffies common room was larger than he expected, but still a bit too small for everyone. He didn’t mind it one bit, though, because just then he caught sight of his best friend right next to the beverages table.

Draco nodded his goodbye to Blaise and made his way to the dark-haired girl. She was wearing a tiny black dress that fell over her slim figure like water, and her bob and stylish bangs were arranged in his favourite ”just got out of bed” look. He stalked her like a predator, his vision tunnelling in as he cornered his prey.

“Good evening, love,” he said in her ear as his hands encircled her waist from behind.

She stiffened under his hands before turning around. She had a considerably better look on her face than the last time he saw her alone, but there was still an undercurrent of sadness to her that gave him pause.

“Draco.” Her hands went up his dark grey cardigan and met on his collar. “You look dashing as always.”

“So do you.” He lowered his voice to the one he usually reserved for the bedroom and pressed her closer to him. He was about to lower his face to hers when she pushed him away slightly.

He followed her silent command and frowned at her.

“We’re not together anymore, Draco.” She stepped out of his embrace and smiled slightly at him.

“Come on, Pansy.” He rolled his eyes. “We both know that never lasts long.”

“This time it will,” she replied with more force behind her words. Her face hardened a bit, only to soften again seconds later. “We’re no good together, darling.”

“What are you saying?” He looked at her in confusion. “We’re best friends. We’re great together!”

“As friends, yeah.” She nodded slightly and rubbed her arms as if she was cold. “But we kind of suck at dating. We’re almost always fighting and breaking up and, honestly, I deserve better than that. We both do.”

Draco didn’t know what to do. She was right, of course, but that didn’t mean he liked it. He appreciated constance, and he and Pansy had been together for well over two years, not to mention best friends since they were little kids. Their  _ engagement _ had been an almost certainty in their future, and now he had to come to terms with the fact that they were really broken up and not getting back together.

“I..” He trailed off and shook his head a bit before frowning and looking down at his feet. “I don’t really know what to say.”

“Stop being such a pansy,” she replied jokingly, even if her tone of voice was a bit forced. It was a play on words she always did. “We’ll still be friends. Just no shagging this time around.”

Draco didn’t think he had it in him to smile like she was, so he just stared at her instead. He watched as she rolled her eyes and stretched a bit to kiss his cheek. Then she leaned back and used her thumb to get the mark her red lips had left on him.

“Don’t look so serious, love.” She squeezed his hand. “I’ll see you later.”

Pansy left him alone at the drinks table, feeling at once relieved and lost. However, Draco soon decided that there was little he could do about it, so he poured himself some Firewhisky and downed the whole thing in one go. Something made him look to his right as he finished pouring his second glass and he met Firewhisky eyes.

Weasley was in the corner of the room, just off the makeshift dance floor. She was leaning against the wall in a half circle with some of her usual crowd and, surprisingly, her brother and Potter. She looked at him with a slight frown on her features, her head cocked calculatingly. It was a strange look on someone who always seemed to wear her heart on her sleeve, but Draco found that it fit her somehow. 

The cream, three-quarter sleeved sweater she was wearing contoured her figure perfectly and left the arch of her neck and the defined lines of her collarbones fully exposed. Draco did a quick assessment of her and noticed she was using the tiniest bit of makeup. While she wasn’t wearing any heels, she was wearing a rather flattering skirt. Her hair was in the ponytail he had gotten used to seeing, but this time her bangs were deliberately framing her face. 

Draco considered a fantasy of approaching her, but soon dismissed that idea. Instead, he tipped his cup in her direction in a kind of a salute. Weasley smiled at him then. Actually fucking  _ smiled, _ and he was blown away with how bloody radiant she looked. The girl was fucking  _ beautiful. _

He was thankfully knocked out of his foolish reveries when he realised the Weasley Git and Four Eyes were making their way towards him.

“Malfoy,” The tall ginger tried for a menacing tone, but to Draco it just sounded like he was constipated. “You stay away from my sister. Or else.”

Draco actually snorted. What a tosser. “First of all,  _ Dumbledore _ ordered me to spend two hours a day at least two days a week with her, you barmy git. And, second.” He smirked at them. “Piss off.”

”

  
  
  
  


Draco left the two boys and went to find his friends. He didn’t dare glance back in the girl’s direction. Instead, he spent the rest of the night with good, albeit completely drunk, company and worked hard to ensure he would have a good old-fashioned hangover in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Dungeon Five Ch. 4**

  
  
  


Draco woke up the next morning with a pounding in his head that mirrored the alarm he’d set up the night before. For a second, the back of his throat burned as his stomach churned. He actually thought he’d throw up, but he waited it out and it soon passed.

Last night had been fun—breakup aside. He had gotten to hang out with his friends and had got  _ gloriously _ drunk, as he’d intended. He, unfortunately, hadn’t hooked up with anybody, but it had been mostly out of respect to Pansy, and he was actually feeling pretty good about it.

That was yesterday, though, because ”feeling good” was about as far from what he was feeling right now as it could get.

With great effort, Draco managed to push himself out of bed and towards the direction of his bathroom. He wondered, as he stripped completely, what had possessed him and Weasley to schedule their lesson today  _ before _ lunch.

It was after he’d already been under the deliciously hot spray for some time that he remembered why. They both had Quidditch practice after lunch. Gryffindors first and then Slytherin. He couldn’t help but groan at the thought that his day was going to be a busy one, and he didn’t even have a proper cure for his headache.

Draco stretched his time in the shower for as long as he could before he had to get out and start shaving. He ended up cutting himself on the blade for the first time since  _ third year _ and had to make a mental note to have Weasley take a look at it later. 

The thought gave him brief pause at the familiarity at which it came to him, but he ended up shrugging it off. It wasn’t his fault that she had made her skills in mending wounds known, and he sure as fuck wouldn’t let it go to waste.

He dressed himself in dark trousers and an even darker cardigan over an undershirt hurriedly before leaving. He would have to tidy his hair on the way if he didn’t want to be late.

The walk through the dungeons was pretty uneventful, if only because everybody else was either still asleep because of last night or outside enjoying the bit of sun they’d gotten. By the time he got to Dungeon Five, he was already regretting putting on the cardigan.

Draco put his things on the table and didn’t have to wait long before Weasley walked in.

“Morning,” she greeted with a yawn, which she tried to smother with her hand. 

He noticed that she was dressed appropriately for the unusually warm weather. The light jeans she was wearing stopped the middle of her calf and—to his utter horror—had rips on the knees and thighs. Her top was a simple white shirt that was short and tight enough to get his attention before he forced his eyes away.

“Good morning, Weaslette,” he offered as he eyed her shoes. They appeared to be some kind of white Muggle tennis shoes. They reached her ankles and had a blue star on the outside, and Draco found himself liking how they looked on her.

“Do you have to call me that?” 

He looked up just in time to see her wrinkle her little nose. “Ah, apologies,” he said, not sounding apologetic at all. “Would you prefer Weasley?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” She raised her freckled nose in the air in what he thought was a surprisingly good imitation of his mother. “I would much rather you call me Ginny, though.”

He didn’t really know what to say to that.  _ Ginny _ ? That sounded awfully intimate and not at all something he, Draco  _ Malfoy _ , should ever call her. He didn’t have much time to ruminate on that, though, because Weasley interrupted his thoughts with a snort.

“Whatever, Malfoy.” She shook her head in amusement at him. “Have you had any breakfast?”

The question caught him off guard for a moment before he shook his head at her. “No.” He smothered a yawn of his own. “I just woke up, really.”

“Me too.” She grinned at him brightly. “Let’s go, then. A big, greasy breakfast will make us both feel better.”

“Who said I wasn’t feeling well?” He challenged her even as his feet moved towards the exit.

Weasley scoffed. “Please, you look like you would rather keel over and die than do any work today.”

“Are you saying I look bad, Weasley?”

“No, I’m saying you look hungover.” She looked at him from the corners of her eyes. “Besides, I saw how you were drinking that Firewhisky like it was pumpkin juice yesterday. I’m surprised you’re even up and functioning today.”

It was true. He did drink a lot yesterday. But not nearly as much as she seemed to think. He was used to much heavier drinking. There was something else that caught his attention in her sentence, though.

“Were you watching me, little Weasley?” He smirked at her and watched, completely fascinated, as pink dusted her cheeks in the slightest of ways.

“Don’t be absurd.” She turned her face from him and stopped in front of a fruit painting. 

Draco was about to continue teasing her, but he balked when Weasley reached out and  _ tickled _ the pear. He gaped even worse when the pear actually turned into a dork knob and he was suddenly looking at an exact replica of the Great Hall.

Only that wasn’t right because there weren’t this many house-elves in the Great Hall. In fact, in all his seven years at the bloody school, he’d never actually seen a house-elf apart from—

“Dobby?” He raised his eyebrows at the elf.

“Master Malfoy!” The elf’s big ears flapped as he bowed so low his nose touched the floor. “You shouldn’t be in the kitchens, sir! If the young master wanted something to eat, Dobby would most certainly take it to young Master Malfoy’s quarters! Dobby is a good elf!”

Draco looked into the elf’s wide, fearful eyes and frowned. “You can make me something to eat here, Dobby. I wasn’t actually aware that I was heading towards the kitchens.” He raised an eyebrow at Weasley.

“Oh, yes.” The girl rolled her eyes. “Silly me to take you to the kitchens when I said we were getting some breakfast.”

A small smirk tried to make itself known on his lips, but he didn’t let it show. He hadn’t even questioned where they were going, just followed her blindly, and that was a slightly disturbing thought to have.

“Hello.” Ginny extended a hand towards Dobby. “I’m Ginny Weasley.”

“Oh!” Dobby grasped at her and stumbled a few steps. “Dobby will make breakfast for Master Malfoy and his Miss Weezy right away, sir!” And with a pop he was gone.

“Right, uh.” Weasley cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable, and moved towards the replica of the Gryffindor table.

Before she could go far, Draco took her wrist and unceremoniously dragged her to sit at the Slytherin table. He put her on one end of the table and sat across from her before she huffed at him. He only responded with a shrug.

“So.” He leaned back on his seat and crossed his legs in front of him. “Last night. You were watching me.”

He didn’t bother to contain his smirk when he saw the blush from earlier returning. It was amusing the way it stretched across her cheeks. Weasley took a moment—in which she looked  _ adorably _ embarrassed—before she seemed to compose herself.

“I watched as Pansy Parkinson broke up with you, if that’s what you mean. Everyone did.”.

Draco frowned at her. He knew the face he was making would certainly have made others run in the other direction, but Weasley simply bit her bottom lip worriedly and looked at him through her lashes.

“Sorry.” And she did sound sorry. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

Draco nodded slowly before grimacing. He released a frustrated breath when he realised that he actually wanted to talk about this. It was just his luck that he was hungover, tired and not at all fit to resist some impulses. So he talked.

“She said we were terrible together.” He exhaled forcibly through his nose. “Can you believe that? We spend more than two years together and even longer as best friends, and suddenly we’re terrible together?”

Weasley looked at him cautiously. “Well, you did fight and break up a lot…”

“Yes, I suppose we did.” He methodically rolled his sleeves to his elbows. “But still, we made up just as much, and I  _ know _ she enjoyed that part.”

Their eyes met just as hers widened, and he cursed himself for letting the innuendo slip out. He had to remind himself that this wasn’t Blaise or Crabbe and Goyle—he couldn’t make a lewd comment and then laugh about it. This was  _ Weasley _ .

Then she snorted. The girl actually snorted at his terrible innuendo and proceeded to hide the uncontrollable giggles that followed with her hands. He couldn’t stop his grin if he tried.

“I’m sure she did.” Weasley put her head in her hands and let her last giggles escape.

Draco scoffed and shook his head, the remains of a grin still on his lips. ““Anyway, I don’t think we’ll make up this time.”

She didn’t try to give him false hope with empty words. She simply said, “That sucks, mate.” 

Draco couldn’t appreciate her more. It  _ did _ suck, but the truth was that he wasn’t heartbroken about it, and maybe that said something about their relationship. Maybe it really wasn’t meant to be.

Just then, Dobby popped over and bowed low before raising his tiny hands over the table. With a snap of his long, bony fingers, their breakfast appeared before them. The elf bowed again before popping away. Draco didn’t even register the action because he was already pouring himself some tea.

“So.” 

He looked at Weasley over the rim of his cup. “What?”

“Dobby is your family’s house-elf… How come he’s here in the kitchens?”

Draco put his cup back on its saucer. “Dobby has been my family’s elf since before I was born.” He didn’t pause while buttering his toast. “He was ordered to take care of me when I came along and was a nanny of sorts when I was younger. When I turned seventeen, my parents gave him to me. He’s my personal elf now, but I have no idea what he’s doing in the kitchens. Maybe that’s where all the house-elves at Hogwarts stay.”

“That is such a”—she narrowed her eyes and waved her hands around for a bit, as if trying to find the right word—“an upper crust thing. I can’t even.” She shook her head at him with a small grin.

Draco shrugged. “It’s common amongst purebloods. Oh, wait. I meant amongst the Sacred—” His eyes widened at his faux pas. “I, uh...” He cleared his throat and looked helplessly at her.

“Maybe we should drop this subject.” Her tone was light enough, but there was a definite tightening to her mouth.

He did what he always did in these types of situations, which was fall back on his manners. “My apologies.” Then he frowned, mostly at himself, because what the actual fuck? He wasn’t usually this bad at  _ words _ .

“Moving on, Malfoy.” Weasley raised her eyebrows at him. “You look like you cut yourself.” She gestured at his jawline.

“Yes, I did.” It somehow felt wrong to ask her to do something for him after his earlier blabber, but he didn’t have to, because she offered herself.

“I can take a look at it after brekkie if you want.”

And that’s how Draco found himself in his current position—looking up at Weasley from his seat and her body further warming his with their proximity. It got to the point that it was almost too much. One of her knees was on the bench between his legs and she had one hand leaning his face up..

“Wait, wait,” he tried not to gasp. “Let me take off this cardigan.” That didn’t sound right. “It’s fucking hot today. Don’t know how you aren’t feeling it.”

Weasley stepped back and let him slip the cashmere of his body. He tried not to make eye contact as he did, because he was already half-hard as it was, but apparently he didn’t need to. Her eyes were too busy tracking the movement of his arms. Huh. The Weaslette was checking him out, and unabashedly at that.

“I would be on fire if I was wearing a sweatshirt in this weather,” she said.

“Cardigan,” Draco said, just to distract himself from the fact that she was back in her earlier position. This time, he could feel her heat much better with just one layer on. It looked like his plan had backfired.

“Whatever, posh boy.”

He felt her breath on his cheek and the hair on his arms raised in response. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Weasley to heal him. He thanked fucking Salazar that she was too busy covering up her own blush to notice him adjusting himself in his trousers. It looked like he was right back to stake one, what with his body behaving like that of a thirteen year old’s.

Merlin, kill him now.

.

.

.


	5. Chapter 5

**Dungeon Five Ch. 5**

  
  
  
  


Ginny was ready for that night’s get together. It wasn’t anything fancy, mind, but it was exactly what she needed. A night to herself and her friends without the usual interference of her brother and Harry sounded perfect to her. There would be alcohol, good music and only her closest friends. It would be brilliant.

She didn’t know what was wrong with her lately. Her hormones were pretty much going haywire and she was stuck between thinking that she was either pregnant or in premature menopause.

Of course, neither of those options were feasible in the least, but  _ still _ .

It had all started that night with Coote.

She had initially blamed the alcohol for the way she had ended up in that room with him. It was easy to pretend it was because she was drunk and he was  _ there _ , but she had still only been the slightest bit tipsy at the end of the night.

Then things had got  _ worse. _

She kept noticing things that she really shouldn’t, like how Malfoy’s hair was a sexy mess last Sunday or how the muscles in his arms were ridiculously defined, and that  _ jawline _ —

So, yeah. What she needed right now was a night out with her friends.

Ginny, Colin, Neville and Trevor the Toad headed down the Grand Staircase at exactly midnight to meet up with Luna in front of the door to the Prefect’s Bathroom. It was the perfect spot to hangout that night, because it was easy enough to spell their music to not be heard from outside and had a bath large enough that it could only be called a pool.

So Ginny put on her black two piece, covered it up with some jeans and a sweater, and got ready to relax.

They sat around in a circle with music pounding, alcohol flowing, and colourful bubbles around them. It was just what she needed, a nice night out with her friends. They consoled Colin when he moaned about not having a boyfriend, laughed with Neville as he told them about Trevor’s latest antics, and encouraged Luna to stand up to the bullies in her House.

“What about you, Gin?” Colin played with her hair as she lay with her head on his shoulder and her feet on Luna’s lap. “What’s new for you?”

Ginny groaned. “My life is a mess! I hooked up with Coote!”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to hook up with him.” Neville cocked his head at her, confused.

“I know.” She covered her face with her hands as they all laughed. “I didn’t let it get too far, though.”

“How far  _ did  _ you get, girl?” Colin leaned forward just enough so she could see him wiggle his eyebrows at her.

“I may or may not have been shirtless, but nothing past that. The worst part is that he’s being weird about me kind of rejecting him that night. Training is a bitch now.”

“Ah, yes.” Luna nodded. “His aura did seem a bit greyish lately.”

Colin waved his hand dismissively. “He’ll get over it. Now tell me what we all really want to know.” He paused for dramatic effect. “What is it like to have  _ the _ Draco Malfoy all to yourself?” 

Ginny felt her cheeks burning without her consent and stubbornly did’t make eye contact with anyone. “You make it sound like—“

She didn’t get to finish her sentence because, almost as if summoned, Draco Malfoy entered the Prefect’s Bathroom with his friends behind him.

It was a scene so surreal that for a moment Ginny had no reaction. They were all in their pyjamas, holding bottles of liquor and some cigarettes, and they looked like they had been at a private get together but now where  _ there _ . In  _ her  _ private get together.

“Weasley.” Draco blinked at her, and she realised he was a bit tipsy. “Hello.”

His voice broke her out of her stupor. She sprang to her feet, tucking the hair she had chosen to let loose behind her ears nervously. “Hi. Didn’t expect to see you here.” She almost cringed at how bloody  _ awful _ that sounded.

“We were having a private party in our common room, but the fifth years have some kind of D.A.D.A. test tomorrow, so we decided to relocate.”

“Right.” Ginny nodded and then went on uncertainly, “We can share?”

“Share?” Crabbe—or was it Goyle?—scoffed. “We don’t share with mudbloods and blood-traitors.”

Ginny felt her insides quiver in anger at the stupid boy, but before she could get out of the water and beat some sense into him, Draco grinned nastily at his minion.

“Ah, Crabbe, ever eloquent.” His eyes narrowed. “How about you go back to the dungeons?”

The other minion—Goyle, as she now knew—gaped at Draco. “But, Dra—“

“Perhaps you should join him, Goyle.” His tone brooked no argument. “It is way past your bedtime.”

Ginny watched completely transfixed as both boys were thoroughly chastised. Draco looked intensely at them before they realised he wasn’t changing his mind and left. Actually  _ left, _ just like that. 

Draco turned back to them and raised the bottle on his hand in offering. “We have booze.”

The words were leaving Ginny’s mouth before she got any control of it. “Welcome.”

Suddenly, there they were: four Gryffindors and five Slytherins sharing a private party in the Prefects Bathroom.

At first it was really uncomfortable. The snakes weren’t exactly wearing any swimming suits under their expensive pyjamas and so had stripped to their equally expensive underwear to join them at the pool. By Colin’s surprisingly cunning acting, he’d somehow gotten her to sit next to Draco, and she couldn’t get over the fact that—ohMerlinohMerlinohMerlin—he was just in his  _ boxers.  _

The girls were only talking to themselves while Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott pretended that their bottles were filled with water and this was the driest day in the year. Safe to say, it was pretty awkward.

But then the Firewhisky got passed around and, by the time they’d finished their fifth bottle, everything was much better. Zabini had Colin on his lap as he proceeded to taste the back of the boy’s throat. Their hands were everywhere, and Ginny had to look away after a while because it was getting more intense by the second. They were the first to leave.

Luna, Neville and, surprisingly, Nott were talking animatedly about what appeared to be—weirdly enough—old people. They were all gesticulating wildly and at one moment Ginny thought Theo drowned when he slipped and went under the bubbly water for quite some time. The most surprising of all, however, was when what had previously been a quiet, private conversation turned into Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson kissing. Not just kissing, to be honest, but flat out  _ snogging _ .

Draco, who had been chatting with her during all this and had his shoulder firmly pressed against hers, slurred beside her, “Is what I’m seeing real?” 

Ginny passed him the bottle they’d been sharing and nodded. “Are you seeing Parkinson and Greengrass kissing?”

Draco hummed. “I’m pretty sure they’re at second base already.”

Ginny snickered and then promptly covered her mouth with her hands. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing.” She looked at him guiltily. “I thought you’d be more upset, though. Or at least surprised.”

“Well,” Draco shrugged, “Pansy had always played on both teams. I’m even pretty sure she was more interested in girls than boys.”

“But she dated you for  _ four years! _ ” Ginny exclaimed, her eyes wide as they turned to look at each other.

“Yeah, but we had our breaks, remember?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “And, I mean, her and Daphs? Definitely makes sense.”

Ginny grinned despite herself. The hot water combined with the Firewhisky had made her pleasantly dizzy and pliant. Draco’s arm against hers was impossibly warm and having him so close like that was making it hard on her to notice anything else but him: his platinum hair wet and combed back by his fingers. The small droplet of water that ran from one of the loose locks around his face to land on his collarbone. How there was the tiniest hint of a flush to his cheeks, be it from the alcohol, the heat, or something else.

Ginny’s unabashed staring was interrupted by Pansy loudly announcing she and Daphne were leaving. Draco exchanged some words with the girls that had them laughing, but Ginny was too busy tipping the bottle back.

“Wanna finish?” She offered it to Draco and he took it, but not before almost letting it slip into the pool.

He downed the whole thing and placed it behind them before stretching his arms to the ceiling and grunting. “Salazar’s sweet balls.” Draco paused and blinked at her. “I meant sweaty. I swear I meant sweaty.”

Ginny sniggered at him. She tried to contain herself, she really did, but it was no use. She laughed hard at him, the way only drunk people can properly do, and gasped for air. There were tears streaming down her face. It probably wasn’t even that funny, but he was laughing with her and she was drunk and, Merlin, she needed this laugh.

“Hey, Gin, we’re headed out,” Neville called to her.

Ginny was surprised to see that the remaining trio were already dressed and almost to the door.

“Do you need me to wait for you to walk back to Gryffindor?” Neville asked.

It would probably be the sensible thing to ask him to stay, but she couldn’t. He looked like he was barely restraining himself from falling asleep right there, and she still needed to dry herself and put her clothes on.

“No need, Nev.” She grinned at him. “See you tomorrow.”

With a clumsy wave, Neville, Nott and Luna were gone.

Ginny didn’t waste any time in getting out of the pool, pushing her palms on the wet stone floor to support her weight. “We should get going too,” she said to Draco.

There was an odd silence before she heard him clear his throat behind her. “Yeah, we should.”

Ginny briefly considered the dangers of drying herself with her wand, but in the end decided to go for it. It was a simple enough spell.

Draco raised his eyebrows at her as he stepped back into his silk pyjama pants. “That was amazingly done considering you can barely stand straight.”

She shrugged as she put her clothes back on, starting with her jeans. “I’m good with charms. Had to be with Fred and George for brothers, really.”

“The twins, right?” Draco put on his matching shirt. “They caused a lot of trouble around here. Never a dull day with them in the castle.”

Ginny snickered. Her vision was temporarily obstructed when she put her sweater on. “That’s an understatement. Growing up with them, I learned that anything is possible if you have enough nerve.”

She tried to force her hair into a ponytail. It was being really unhelpful, the water making it heavier than usual. She was a bit distracted by it, but was suddenly frozen in place when Draco stepped up to her, this time with a dark green House robe covering his pyjamas, and took her wrist in his hand. His warm skin encircled her completely and Ginny marvelled at it for a while. The smooth marble that it was, how the muscles worked even as his hold was gentle.

“I like your hair down better.” 

And his  _ voice _ . It sounded like pure sin in that moment. Ginny’s breath caught in response and she had to force both her gaze and body away to regain her senses. 

“Uh.” She cleared her throat. “Right.”

Draco looked at her with his brows furrowed before he shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear his mind. He offered her a half-apologetic, half-amused smirk and a shrug before turning away to look at the pool. “We should vanish these bottles.”

Indeed, they should. All around the bath were several Firewhisky bottles that could seriously get them in trouble.

“I don’t think I’m good enough to do such a complex spell.” She grimaced a bit. “And neither are you.”

“Dobby can,” was his answer.

Ginny scowled at him even as he avoided her gaze. “He’s probably sleeping, Draco.”

He scoffed and turned to look at her. “He’ll come.” A pause and then a deliberate look. “ _ Ginny _ .”

She didn’t have enough time to process the feelings her name on his lips invoked inside her, because then he was calling the house-elf forth and they were both distracted by Dobby’s energetic nature.

By the time they left the Prefect’s Bathroom, the mood was considerably lighter. That is, until they bumped into Filch right as they were turning the corner.

For a while no one spoke. The only sound in the hallway was faint snoring from the portraits as they took each other in. She tried to see the situation with Filch’s eyes and was scared of what she found. Two students, way past curfew, just leaving the only bathroom in the school with a tub large enough to be a pool, with their hair wet and messy … 

She feared for her life.

“Students out of bed,” the Squib said nastily. His gleeful eyes jumped from Ginny to Draco—no doubt he was imagining what punishments he could dole out.

“We can explain—” 

“I’m sure you can,” Filch interrupted her.

Draco’s mouth thinned a bit before he took a deep breath and stared at the caretaker. “We were not doing anything untoward, I assure you,  _ Mr. Filch _ .” His voice was surprisingly steady, even with all the alcohol in his system. “We were simply taking a swim.”

“A swim,” Filch spit at him while narrowing his eyes, “past curfew, in the  _ Prefect’s _ Bathroom, with someone who is most certainly  _ not  _ a prefect.”

Draco wisely chose to keep his mouth shut.

“Very well.” Filch finally turned to look at her. “Detention next Saturday before lunch, Miss Weasley. I expect the Trophy Room to be spotless.” He turned to look down his nose at Draco, even though the boy was taller then him. “You too, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I am Head Boy!” Draco raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes a bit. “I’m allowed to roam the corridors after curfew.”

“To do your rounds.” Filch narrowed his eyes even further, as if daring to be contradicted. “Your detention, however, isn’t for being outside after curfew. It is for taking a non-prefect inside the Prefect’s Bathroom.”

“But—”

“No arguments!” Filch snapped. “Both of you to your common rooms.Now.”

Draco looked as if he was going to argue further, but Ginny thought it wise to not let this get any more out of hand. They were lucky to only get one detention as it was. So she pulled on the sleeve of his robe and was relieved he went with her after only a moment of hesitation.

“ _ Separately _ ,” Filch ordered..

“I was simply walking Ms. Weasley to her common room,” Draco replied coldly.

“There is no need for that. Go before I decide to add another detention.”

Ginny met Draco’s annoyed gaze with one of incredulity. He still smelt faintly of expensive booze and, just moments before, had been slurring his words. How the fuck was he still being confrontational with  _ Filch _ ?

She shook her head at him and mouthed ”Goodnight” before turning around and heading to the safety of the Gryffindor common room. Only when she was properly dressed for bed and inside the warm comfort of her four-poster did Ginny let go of the laughter she’d been holding. What a strange, wonderful night.

.

.

.


	6. Chapter 6

**Dungeon Five Ch. 6**

  
  
  


The next week went by ridiculously fast for Draco. Training had gotten progressively more intensive as the winter break approached, and Draco found himself more often than not on the Quidditch pitch. The weather was also getting worse and worse, so most of the time the experience wasn’t exactly pleasurable. It was a good way to expel some excessive energy, though.

School work was harder then ever, all the professors burying them with essays and reading assignments to prepare the seventh years for their N.E.W.T.s. Draco spent almost all his free time with his friends, either in the Library or their common room, exchanging notes and studying.That brought him to perhaps the only good thing to come out of the week—his friendship with Pansy.

After their unexpected encounter with the Gryffindors on Saturday, their relationship had lost some of the careful constructed distance they’d adopted since their break up. They weren’t exactly back to how they were before, but it was close enough for Draco.

The strange thing was watching Pansy with Daphne.

When Draco and Pansy had first hooked up on the night of the Yule Ball during their fourth year, things had been weird for a while before they found their feet and moved on as kind-of-but-not-really friends with benefits. That didn’t happen with Daphne and Pansy. At all.

It seemed like the girls were closer then ever. Every time Draco saw one of them, they were with the other, and the strange thing was that they weren’t exactly acting like a couple. Not even one wandering hand or lingering look. They were just … more intimate. Sometimes he felt as if he was intruding whenever he looked at them.

With a mental shake of his head, Draco moved on from the complicated relationship that had nothing to do with him to the complicated relationship that actually did. Weasley—Ginny, however strange that was to think of her by her first name—was a puzzle.

A puzzle he had to admit he rather enjoyed unraveling. 

He’d gotten into the habit of observing her from a distance whenever she was in the same room as him. Draco watched as boys’, and even some girls’, heads turned to look at her as she walked into the Great Hall. Ginny was charismatic, magnetic, electric and everybody knew it.

She was this hybrid, this mix of girl-woman that captured everyone’s attention. 

Ginny’s body was all woman. His eyes were immediately drawn to the dip of her waist or the flare of her hips. Her breasts weren’t magnificently ample, but they were full and looked like they would fit perfectly in his palm. Ginny’s face was a work of art in the sense that it wasn’t traditionally pretty. She was striking in the way that her honey eyes shined when she laughed or the slightly crooked angle of her lateral incisors. She was in no way perfect, and that was what made her beautiful.

Yet, however grown up she looked, what really fascinated Draco was her mind. It captivated him like nothing else had before, and if that didn’t baffle him, he didn’t know what else did. He usually wasn’t one to wax poetics about girls, but Ginny… she was this bright light that almost blinded, a sun in the constellation he orbited. She was kind to others while being authentic to her bold nature. She was strong in that she wasn’t afraid to show her vulnerability. 

Draco was completely enthralled by her and he was  _ terrified _ for it. He was equal parts scared and enthusiastic to get to uncover every secret her mind and body held; he was—

Going to be late.

He got up as fast as he could without looking like a complete idiot from where he was sitting in the common room and bid his friends farewell before gathering his stuff and leaving. He moved through the almost empty halls of the dungeon, stopping his mad dash only when he heard someone in the distance and finally reached the stairs.

When he got to the third floor, he wasn’t exactly winded, but his hair was definitely messier than before. He didn’t have time to fix it in private, however, so he decided to just go ahead with it.

Filch was waiting for him outside the Trophy Room’s closed door. “Ms. Weasley is already inside,” the old Squib said with a sort of grimace. “You are both allowed to leave when lunch starts. No magic.”

He extended his hand. Draco sneered at having to give his wand to a squib, but he did it with no further argument. The door shut behind him as he entered the stuffy room, but Draco barely registered it. All he noticed was Ginny Weasley.

She was wearing a grey sweater and jean overalls that were rolled up. The ankle boots she had on were a few inches south of where her pants ended and his eyes were inexplicably drawn to that small expanse of fair skin. It was with great effort that he brought his gaze to her face to see that she had her hair up in a messy sort of bun and no makeup on.

“I see you got started already,” Draco said.

Ginny’s head snapped to his direction and she immediately smiled at him. Draco felt his breath hitch in his chest. Without his consent, his lips pulled up in one corner in response.

“Morning, Draco.” Her voice was carefree as she tossed him a rag. “Time to live like us normal people who don’t have house-elves to clean everything for us.”

Draco huffed a playful sort of laugh. “Peasants.” 

They spent some time in companionable silence, cleaning side by side. Their shoulders brushed every once in a while and made his body warm up, even as the temperature outside was continuously bleak as they headed further into winter. 

After a while of not speaking, he sighed. “This is absolutely dreadful work.”

“Hmm, yes,” Ginny hummed in agreement. “It would be much more enjoyable if we had a boom box and some Weird Sisters.”

Draco frowned at the medal he was currently cleaning before turning his head slightly in her direction. “Boom box?” He grimaced. “Is that Muggle?”

Ginny’s hands froze. She turned very slowly towards him, her brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with that?” Her tone was firm, her eyes slightly narrowed as she challenged him to say the truth.

For a while there, in his incessant interest in her, he had forgotten that the Weasleys were the biggest blood-traitors known to England. He’d forgotten that they believed Muggles were  _ equals _ and that they were avid members of the Order of the Phoenix . 

“They are inferior, Ginny,” he tried to explain to her. “Second fiddle at best.” 

Her eyes widened in what could only be described as outrage, and he rushed to try to make her understand. 

“It’s not their fault! I’m not saying we should kill them or anything like that. I’m just saying that they’re not magically gifted and magic is superior in every sense. It’s why Muggle-borns are extremely privileged to be allowed entrance to our world and why they have to pay a fee to do so. Muggles are dangerous and have to be kept from knowing about magic.”

“Dangerous?” She scoffed and took a step away from him as if she couldn’t bear to be close to him in any form. It sent an unexpected pang through him. “How can you say that? What have they ever done to us?”

Draco looked at her, confused and wide-eyed, as she angrily pushed a few fly-aways behind her pierced ears. There was so much accusation in her eyes—and even a bit of what he was frightened to describe as disgust—that he had to look down. As he looked at the medal in his hands, his counterargument came to him.

“Look at this.” He put the gold medal in her hands and watched as she reluctantly read the inscription.

“Medal for Magical Merit?” She frowned at the medal, refusing to look at him. 

He suppressed the sick feeling in his stomach when he realised that she was avoiding making eye contact with him and instead waited impatiently as she turned the medal around. 

“Tom M. Riddle, Slytherin Prefect,” She read.

“He was one of the best students to ever walk this castle,” Draco explained. “He received that medal in his  _ fifth year _ , Ginny. Everything pointed to him being the greatest wizard of his time. He’s a bit of a legend in Slytherin. However, he had the complete misfortune of being a half-blood orphan. Dumbledore refused to let him move in permanently at Hogwarts and made him go back to the tiny Muggle London orphanage every summer. This is 1942 we’re talking about. Do you know what was happening in the Muggle world at that time?”

“A Muggle war of some sorts,” Ginny whispered, speaking the words as if saying them any louder would make something terrible happen. Her glazed eyes didn’t leave the medal.

“Yes, a Muggle war. He had so much potential; he had his whole life ahead of him.” Draco’s voice was harsh, desperate to make her see his way. “His orphanage went up in flames in the middle of the night. A Muggle contraption designed to explode _ ,  _ I believe, obliterated the house in a matter of seconds. Tom Riddle didn’t return for his sixth year at Hogwarts, Ginny, because of Muggles.”

For a while she didn’t say anything. The only sound in the room was their ragged breaths as the tension seemed to build. There were tears in her eyes when she finally looked up at him.

“Is that why you think they’re dangerous?” she demanded. “Because their technology accidentally killed one of Slytherin’s greatest?”

“They’re vicious creatures who are constantly fighting! They shouldn’t be allowed to mingle with us because they don’t have magic and, yes, they are inferior to us!”

“And what about all our Goblin Rebellions?” Ginny raised her voice above his. “The Giant Wars, all the conflicts between magical creatures— _ Grindelwald _ ? Let me remind you that while that Muggle war that killed Riddle was happening, we were having our Global Wizarding War because of that Grindelwald bastard, and thousands were killed because of him and his ideals! Is that what you want to happen again?”

Draco stared wordlessly at her. Her chest was heaving with how fast she was breathing, her cheeks stained red, not in embarrassment, but in anger.

He didn’t know what to say. At first it was because he was transfixed with how fierce she looked, but then he began to think of a comeback and found himself lacking arguments. In all his life, he had never thought about it like that. For him, Muggles were inferior to wizards because they lacked magic and were dangerous. To think that wizards were just as dangerous was—strange.

“Gin—”

“No! You shut up now and let me speak! You think they’re inferior to us because they don’t have any magic? Their technology is so advanced you wouldn’t believe it, Draco! They can fly for fuck’s sake!” 

Draco’s eyebrows shot up at her cursing and the new fact presented. 

“You think they are ‘dangerous’? Well, so are we! There is absolutely no reason for you pure-bloods to hate Muggles so much.”

“ _ Us  _ pure-bloods,” he reminded her. “Your family is still one of the Sacred Twenty-eight.”

She sneered at him—actually  _ sneered _ — and turned her back to him, putting the medal forcibly down and picking something else to clean. “Whatever, Malfoy.”

To hear her go back to calling him by his surname felt like an actual blow. The amount of—of disappointment in that short sentence was enough to make him feel like he couldn’t breathe for a while.

All that arguing had left him with a headache and a terrible taste in his mouth. In a few minutes, Ginny had made him question everything he’d learned since a small child. He had no idea what to think.

His father had always told him that Muggles were filthy because they didn’t have any magic, that they were lesser creatures, but he supposed Ginny was right in saying their technology was great. He couldn’t deny that.

He frowned when a thought crossed his mind.

Draco remembered reading the Malfoy’s history books. Before the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, the Malfoy’s were Lords in Muggle France. They lived peacefully among the other Lords, some of whom were Muggles, and prospered when King William I offered them land and lordship in England. 

In one of the most ragged books in the library back home, Draco remembered reading that it was confirmed that the first Lucius Malfoy had been an aspirant to the hand of Queen Elizabeth I. The Malfoy’s suffered greatly when the Statute was signed because most of their fortune at the time had come from dabbling in Muggle currency and assets. 

His father had always enforced the importance of upholding the family traditions, but didn’t that mean working with Muggles?

Draco frowned even deeper as the pounding in his head increased. All of this was giving him the migraine of the century. He didn’t want to think anymore.

They continued their work in complete, heavy silence, both now on opposites ends of the room. It was such a contrast to how they had begun that Draco found himself getting pissed. How dare she break the comfortable way they were interacting? 

Then he realised it had actually been him who’d brought up the whole Muggle thing. He barely refrained from kicking the stack of trophies in a fit of rage.

When Filch finally opened the door and handed them their wands, Draco was no closer to figuring out what to think or what to do. He saw Ginny hesitating before leaving, as if she wanted to say something or was perhaps waiting for him to do it. He had nothing to say to her. His head was a big, confusing mess and he could barely stand the sight of her as it was, let alone carry a conversation.

She left without looking back.

Draco sighed and made his way to the Great Hall with slow steps, his mind going a mile a minute and his thoughts a jumbled mess that he was no closer to figuring out by the time he sat down next to Blaise.

“Draco?”

Draco looked to his right to meet his friend’s concerned eyes. “Migraine,” he said in a low voice before letting a sigh escape. “Tell me your family’s history, Blaise.”

“My family?” The cinnamon-skinned boy raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes.” Draco stared unseeingly at his empty plate and nodded his head. “Zabini is Italian, right?”

“Yeah.” Blaise sounded confused. “We used to be very important in Roman monarchy. Family records show we worked mostly from the shadows, though. Whenever there was a scandal, you could be sure a Zabini would be in the middle of it.”

“A lot of interaction with Muggles, I assume.”

“I—“ Zabini faltered, then lowered his voice. “Why are you asking me this, Draco?”

“The Malfoys’ had,” Draco also lowered his voice, “involvement with Muggles, I mean. We used to be very present in Muggle affairs, mostly monarchy related as well.”

Blaise’s shoulder relaxed. “Yes, quite. The first Zabinis were Muggles native to central Italy, although it wasn’t called that at the time. We were direct descendants of the Sabines, who became the first senators of Rome…” He trailed off as if realising he’d gotten overexcited at his family’s history. “Why do you want to know this?” 

Draco met his friend’s eye unflinchingly. Blaise had always been good at hiding his emotions, but Draco was better and he could see everything his best friend was trying to hide. He was scared that Draco was about to berate him for revealing his Muggle ancestry and, at the same time, surprised he had done the same. 

“No reason,” Draco said at length, careful to keep his voice as light as he could.

Blaise seemed to sense it was best if he dropped the topic, so he quickly started talking about their latest Arithmancy essay in a normal tone of voice. Draco was barely listening to him, though. His thoughts were completely focused on Ginny.

His eyes scanned the Gryffindor table without his consent, stopping only when they met her own. For a second it was if all the air around him had disappeared. Even from this distance, he could see all the hurt and disappointment in her eyes, and it was enough to make his heart stutter painfully in his chest.

He didn’t know what was right or what was wrong anymore. All he knew was that he wanted this feeling to go away and that he never wanted to see her look at him like that again.

.

.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Dungeon Five Ch. 7**

  
  
  


Their next tutoring session was on Tuesday and Draco was equal parts dreading it and waiting anxiously for it to come. He ate his pudding quickly and barely paid attention to all the conversation around the dinner table. By the time the clock struck seven, he was already out of his seat and making his way to Dungeon Five. He figured if he got there before Ginny, he could have a moment to himself to figure out what the fuck to do because, at the moment, he had absolutely no idea.

Sunday morning he had owled his mother, asking her if she could send the family history books with her next letter and sweets—the same ones that arrived every Monday without fail. He’d then spent the last day and night forgoing his studies in favour of the tomes, ending with him having to catch up on sleep during Professor Binns’ class.

Draco had grown up hearing that he should always take his appearance seriously. From a very young age, he had learned how to groom himself, knot a perfect tie, and even how to coordinate his wardrobe. However, that morning he just couldn’t gather any energy to put himself together.

He knew he was a mess—the area under his eyes were dark from lack of sleep and his hair framed his face messily. He mustered enough strength to take a cold shower to wake himself up, but that had been as far as putting himself together as he could get. His shirt was untucked from his trousers, the first few buttons opened carelessly, and no tie for the first time in his school life.

He didn’t care. He figured not tidying oneself was an appropriate response for someone whose life had just turned upside down. 

Ever since he could understand speech, he’d been taught that pure-bloods were superior, that Muggles weren’t meant to be a part of their day to day life because they were inferior, and that it was completely right for Muggle-borns to pay the entrance fee to access any wizarding establishment, including Hogwarts. A fee, it was important to add, that his father had underhandedly been behind in implementing.

_ Sanctimonia Vincet Semper _ —the Malfoy family motto that had always been considered gospel. Purity Will Always Conquer. It was something his parents and grandparents had always stood by. Well,  _ it was a lie.  _ Even the family crest was a lie. It had been changed well after Hogwarts was created. 

Apparently, the Malfoy’s arrived in England with the Norman Conquest in 1066. Although there was no set date, it was speculated that Hogwarts had been created at the end of the tenth century, and only after several generations of Malfoys being sorted into Slytherin did they change their coat of arms to match the house.

Before that, the Malfoy family were Normans, descendants of the first Vikings who ruled Normandy. The family crest had also been—and wasn’t this the most ironic thing in this whole fucking world—a _lion_ _in a red and gold setting_.

The motto was the same; however,  _ sanctimonia  _ wasn’t supposed to be translated into  _ purity _ , but instead into  _ sanctity _ . It was something their Viking ancestors had done when they’d arrived in Normandy and adopted Catholicism as their religion.

The worst thing was that Draco knew that the Malfoys owed their fortune to the Muggles. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that a family’s ancient history was ultimately what reflected in how much power or influence they held now. And the truth was that the Malfoys would never have got Malfoy Manor if it wasn’t for King William I—a Muggle—and nowhere near the fortune they had if they hadn’t been into Muggle currency and affairs.

The great Malfoy family was held in such high regard in the Wizarding World because of  _ Muggles _ . The same ones that they were now so against. It was a disturbing thought.

Draco set his things down and ran his hands through his hair. He figured he had at least five minutes of reprieve before Ginny got there. It was time to choose what to do.

Okay, so  _ maybe  _ the books said that they used to do business with Muggles. So what? That was  _ centuries  _ ago! A lot of things could change in that time. Wars had happened since then, countries had formed and alliances broken.  _ The Witch Hunt had happened.  _ It didn’t matter that his ancestors had used to be chummy with Muggles. That time was over and done with.

Who the fuck was he kidding?

Malfoys hadn’t  _ just _ done business with Muggles. They had been Muggle  _ royalty  _ for fuck’s sake, bumping elbows with them at court and marrying queens. And they had prospered because of that. Maybe the only thing that made sense of how the Malfoys had rejected Muggles the way they had done was the Witch Hunt and the following Statute of Secrecy, but even then it was farfetched.

He knew by reading the family books that the Malfoys weren’t affected by the Witch Hunt because of how influential they were with Muggles at that time, and he’d read—in a wine smudged part of one of the books—that they were one of the biggest advocates  _ against _ the Statute. 

They only changed their views when they realised that, to have a place in the newly formed Ministry of Magic, they needed to deny any accusations of Muggle affiliation. And that was the first time he’d seen their motto being translated as  _ Purity Will Always Conquer _ .

It was all a façade. 

Malfoy’s didn’t care about blood purity. They cared about power and influence. It was the same reason that they hadn’t participated in the inbreeding some of the Sacred Twenty-Eight did. They knew that what mattered wasn’t the type of blood you had running through your veins, that it didn’t make your magic any weaker. What mattered was if they could stay on top, so there were many half-bloods in the Malfoy family tree after the Statute had been signed, and  _ a lot _ of Muggles before that.

The question was why—why had his family taught the new generations to hate Muggles and that it was somehow  _ acceptable _ for Muggle-borns to pay the entrance fee? He’d grown up listening to how the family history was so important, so why this gross overlook of it?

Draco felt sick.

He let his weight go and sat heavily on his chair, his hands immediately going to his hair as he leaned his elbows on the table. His fingers curled tightly against his scalp before he slid them over his face. He muffled a frustrated sound in them.

Even though there was all this evidence in front of him, he just couldn’t simply change his view on everything he’d been taught overnight. The Malfoy’s had spent about three centuries pretending they were against Muggles—pretending just so, so well that they started to  _ believe _ it. Just then, the realisation came to him.

He needed to talk to his father. He needed to do it face to face with him, preferably over the Christmas holidays. Until then, he would graciously pretend his world hadn’t shifted upside down, that his whole life was a lie, or that his family had been lying to themselves for three hundred years.

Everything was  _ fine _ .

Ginny entered the office cautiously. It wouldn’t look like it for someone else because her chin was raised and stride purposeful, but he could see underneath that. He saw the nervousness in her eyes and how there was the slightest hesitancy to how she tucked her hair behind her ears.

He looked at her through his fingers for a moment before pulling them away from his face when she set her things on the table, though she didn’t sit down.

“I shouldn’t have let my temper get the best of me,” Ginny said, fiddling with her hands for a while before meeting his gaze. “I know that everything you spewed Saturday was what you were taught and, I guess, conditioned to believe. It’s not your fault you think like that.” She took a deep breath. “But it  _ is _ wrong and I don’t ever want to hear you say that in front of me again.”

Her words were condescending, but he knew that was far from what she was going for. Her tone of voice was earnest and her whole face held such naked hope that he couldn’t say anything else but a very quiet, “Okay.”

“I don’t care if you believe in those kind of things right now,” she continued “I know it must be hard to think of anything else other than what your family believes in, but I—” she released a frustrated huff before continuing “—I don’t actually think you’re a bad person. I always try to see the good in everyone, and I do see it in you. I want to believe in it.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she kept going, as if she was waiting for him to interrupt her and deny everything.

The weirdest thing happened to Draco just then. He found himself unable to protest against anything she was saying. He didn’t know why—maybe it was the raw, vulnerable look on her face or just how fucking  _ hopeful  _ she sounded. It didn’t matter why, but he just knew that he suddenly wanted to be that person. He wanted to be someone she could admire and trust, and realising that was like being hit by a herd of centaurs.

Draco didn’t want to continue talking about this, though. The last few days were still too fresh on his mind—like a knife wound that had yet to close—and he needed some time before he could ever go back to questioning his family’s beliefs again. He needed  _ time _ but at the same time knew he couldn’t go any longer fighting with her.

So he took a deep breath and gave her a perfunctory nod. He took her wrist to pull her to the Potions classroom and didn’t let himself question it. “Come on, Ginny,” he said. “It’s about time we worked on your potion making skills.”

And that was that.

He spent the next two hours with his sleeves rolled up, teaching her how to best cut, squeeze and scrape various ingredients for the Draught of Living Death. At the end, Ginny was slightly better at making the potion and his mind was significantly clearer.

They went back to the office to get their stuff, chatting amiably about how she had got an Outstanding in her last essay. All talk was forgotten, though, when Ginny cocked her head slightly to the side and pointed to one of the Malfoy books sticking out of his bag.

“What’s that?”

Draco hurriedly pushed it back inside and shouldered the satchel before starting to make his way out of the classroom. “It’s just a book,” he answered. 

Ginny took his arm to slow his pace. “It has your family name on it.”

Draco chanced a look at her and immediately regretted it. She was looking ridiculously adorable with her lopsided ponytail and freckles, and he couldn’t deny her if he tried. “It’s my family’s history book.”

“Oh?” 

He could see her interest was piqued and the clear question could be heard in her tone: why were you reading about your family’s history? He thought for a second about lying, but he quickly dismissed the idea. What was the point in lying?

“After our … little altercation on Saturday, I remembered reading about the Malfoys associating with Muggles before the Statute of Secrecy.” He cleared his throat and continued as nonchalantly as possible, “I wanted to check it out.”

They’d reached the point where she would go left and he would go right down separate corridors, so Draco wasn’t at all surprised when they naturally stopped and turned to face each other. Ginny’s eyes were wide in surprise and her jaw was slack.

“Oh.” 

She stared at him for a few seconds before the most beautiful smile he had ever seen stretched her lips. It was the kind of smile that showed her slightly crooked teeth, and he knew it was usually followed by genuine laughter. She didn’t laugh this time, but the smile still lit up her whole face and made her eyes shine and, suddenly, it was hard to breath. 

He thought for a second that she would bring up their earlier argument or even go on about how she was happy he was  _ changing _ —which wasn’t the case at all; he just needed to get all the facts straight, really—but she didn’t. Ginny simply smiled up at him for a few beats before reining it in and nodding in understanding. She did, however, reach up on her tiptoes to lightly press her mouth to his cheek before bidding him goodnight and heading to her common room.

Draco stood there in the cold hall with warmth spreading across his face and settling in his chest. He didn’t know if he was ever going to be truly okay with everything that had happened the last few days, but he knew, undoubtedly, that it couldn’t be that bad if she could make him feel like this.

It was with a lighter step and a considerable weight off his shoulders that he made his way to the Head Boy quarters.

.

.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Dungeon Five Ch. 8**

  
  


_ Warning for mature sexual content. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

Draco straightened the knot on his tie in the mirror. It was about seven in the evening and he had precious minutes left before he had to be at Professor Slughorn’s office for the Slug Club Christmas party. He took a moment to scoff at the ridiculousness of it all.

The Christmas party was for current and former members, but even though his parents had both been in the club, they wouldn’t be caught dead participating in this bizarre affair. His mother always said that only children were acceptable, that the former members who actually went to the party were all passé sycophants.

Draco checked his hair one more time in the mirror before leaving.

The party was on the sixth floor and he’d said he would meet Granger at the beginning of the corridor. Being both Head Girl and Boy and members of the Slug Club, they were expected to be there earlier to help with the finishing touches, such as the guest list.

They’d spent two nights in Slughorn’s office, drafting the piece with him and sending the corresponding invitations. It was tedious work that Draco felt was way below him, but he did it all the same. Now, the professor had the final list with all the guests that had RSVP’d, and they had to get it to Filch and Hagrid at the Main Gate so they could let everyone in.

By the time he got to the sixth floor, Granger was already waiting for him. She had on a pretty blue dress and small heels that were completely unsuited for the trek outside.

“Evening, Granger,” he said politely.

“Malfoy.” She nodded at him, then raised her hands to show she had the list. “We should get going.”

A sudden thought crossed his mind, and he couldn’t stop himself from speaking.

“Granger?” 

She’d already begun a crisp walk but stopped and turned back to him, eyebrows raised and expectant. 

“I—you said your parents were detentists, right? At the first club meeting.”

“Dentists,” she corrected with a furrowed brow, as if she was expecting him to say something nasty. “What of it?” 

Draco tried to speak, but she wouldn’t let him. 

“Look, Malfoy, we don’t have time for your insults tonight. We have to get this to the Main Gate before the guests start arriving.”

“I wasn’t going to insult you.” Draco scowled at her, but quickly let it go. He supposed she had reason to suspect that would be his next course of action. “I just wanted to know how they reacted when they realised you were a witch.”

“Oh.” Granger paused. She looked pleasantly surprised, if a little cautious, when she continued with a bit of a stutter, “I—I believe they didn’t know exactly how to react. If anything, I’d say they were—“

“Scared? Outraged?” Draco interrupted her. “Perhaps a bit agressive?”

“No!” Granger exclaimed. “I know it may be hard for you to grasp, Malfoy, but I was going to say shocked! They were shocked, but now they’re okay with it.”

“Completely okay?” Draco pried.

“Well, they do think the entrance fee is ridiculous, but other than that they very much enjoy going to Diagon Alley with me every year to buy supplies. If anything, they’re a bit overexcited with magic.” Granger crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that all or would you rather waste more time? Perhaps you’d like to know how Muggles secretly sacrifice little children during Thanksgiving?”

Draco stared blankly at her for a moment before he realised she was kidding. He hadn’t actually spent any more time than absolutely necessary with the Head Girl, so the wittiness was unexpected. He hummed a bit before nodding his head and extended his hand for the list.

“You shouldn’t have to walk all the way to the Main Gates in those heels,” he explained.

“I can walk, thank you very much,” Granger replied, though a slight blush crawled across her cheeks. 

“Dobby,” Draco called before the girl could go on a tangent. 

The elf immediately appeared at his side with a bow, and Granger let out a shocked cry.

“Yes, Young Master?” His eyes shined bright when he looked up.

“You know it’s not appropriate for you to call me ‘Young Master’ anymore, don’t you?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “I’m your only master now.”

“Ah!” Dobby exclaimed. “Apologies, Master Malfoy, but Dobby will always think of Master as young Master Malfoy.”

“Take that list to Hagrid at the Main Gate, will you?” Draco rolled his eyes and pointed at the piece of parchment Granger still clutched tightly.

“Of course, Master Malfoy.” And with a huge grin and a pop he, alongside with the list, were gone.

“Right.” Draco turned to Granger and nodded towards the direction of Slughorn’s office. “Shall we, then?”

Granger gaped at him and made no move to follow when he started to make his way towards the party. A few moments later and he could hear the sound of her heels on the stone floor as she berated him for something or another. By the time she began speaking about house-elf rights—what kind of dungbomb did she have inside that head or hers, anyway?—he’d promptly tuned her off.

They arrived at the office to see Professor Slughorn hurriedly pointing one house-elf to finish the decoration. Emerald and crimson draped the ceiling and walls to make it look like they were inside an oversized tent, and all the furniture had been removed to make place for the food and drinks tables. In one corner, the Weird Sisters were tuning their instruments.

“Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger!” Professor Slughorn greeted them with hurried handshakes. “Is the list downstairs already?”

“Certainly, Professor,” Draco replied before Granger could.

They spent the next few minutes making sure everything was in place and, in no time at all, people began to fill in. They all came in odd pairs, some of them former members and their guests that Draco vaguely recognised from the  _ Daily Prophet _ , and some of them fellow students. By the time Draco found his friends, the party was in full swing.

“Thank Merlin we found you.” Pansy looped her arm around his and brought him closer to where she stood with Blaise and Daphne. “Tell Daphne how dear Blaise’s mum is definitely shagging Nott senior. She doesn’t want to believe us.”

Draco sniggered.

“She is definitely putting the moves on him, Daph,” Blaise said with a scrunched nose on his otherwise amused face. “Unfortunately, I might have to start calling Theo ‘brother’ very soon.”

“Nott doesn’t seem like her type, Pans.” Draco huffed a laugh. “Foreign wizard tycoon is more like it.”

“I changed my mind.” Pansy grinned up at him and pushed him playfully. “Go away now.”

Draco only smirked at her, relieved that they were back to normal. He really would have suffered if they’d stopped the easygoingness between them. Pansy and Blaise were his best friends and he couldn’t imagine life without either of them in it. 

Draco managed a few more minutes with his friends before Professor Slughorn approached him, shaking Blaise’s hand but completely ignoring the girls.

“Mr. Malfoy, if you’d come with me.” He put a meaty hand on his shoulder. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Slughorn didn’t really give him a choice, and Draco could only send an exasperated look at his friends before he was being subtly but firmly led to a red-headed woman. She was talking to an ancient wizard and failing miserably at looking interested in whatever the old man was saying.

Draco’s first thought of her was that she was … warm. She was wearing a beige dress that reached her ankles and her long straight red hair was down, which his mother would have said was inappropriate for such an event, but in Draco’s opinion, only made her look somehow softer and more approachable. Even from this distance, Draco could see that the only indication of age on the woman’s face were some very light laugh-lines around her emerald-green eyes. 

“Ah, excuse me, Eldred. If I could steal Lily for a moment.” Professor Slughorn didn’t even give the poor man any time to reply before he was promptly cut off from the conversation. 

“Horace.” The woman smiled warmly at the old professor before looking at Draco with a polite expression.

“Lily, dear, I’d like for you to meet someone.” Slughorn pushed Draco a bit in front of him, towards the woman. “This is Draco Malfoy, one of the most brilliant students I’ve ever had. Mr. Malfoy, this is Lily Evans, my favourite student so far and the one I said you reminded me of at the beginning of term.”

“It’s Potter now, Horace.” The woman’s eyes crinkled as she looked at the old man and quite carefully avoided looking at Draco. “Has been for over nineteen years.”

“Ah, apologies, dear. For me, you’ll always be Ms. Evans, my greatest student.” Professor Slughorn turned to Draco with the biggest smile he’d ever seen on the man’s face. “Mr. Malfoy, know that when I say you remind me of Mrs. Potter, it is the greatest compliment I could ever give.”

Draco put his most charming smile and turned to Lily Potter, pretending like whatever was going through his mind was as far from ”This is Potter’s mum, holy fuck,” as possible.

“Good evening, Mrs. Potter.” He offered her his hand to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Ah.” The woman looked at him surprised, her hand hesitantly grasping his. “You too, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Mr. Malfoy is in your son’s class, Lily,” Slughorn said. “Although they aren’t the closest of friends, so I don’t believe Mr. Potter would have mentioned him.”

“Oh, no.” Mrs. Potter looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes and a sharp smile on her face that instantly reminded him of another redhead. “Harry mentioned Mr. Malfoy once or twice.”

Draco couldn’t contain his wince. His mother must have been wrong, because this woman was neither passé nor a sycophant and Draco found himself instantly liking her. He didn’t know why, but he felt like impressing this woman, even if there was no apparent reason behind it. She was just the type of person who you couldn’t help but want to be on their good side.

“Please, Draco is just fine, Mrs. Potter.” Draco didn’t acknowledge her reply and tried to move on from the subject. “Do you work as a Potion’s Master?”

“No, I don’t,” she replied with the smallest of smiles. She knew he’d purposefully changed the subject and was finding it amusing. “I’m an editor for the  _ Daily Prophet _ right now, but for a long time my only job was taking care of Harry.”

“Yes, that does seem to be my curse,” Slughorn complained. “Here I am with my two favourite students and neither of them want to pursue a career in Potions.”

“What do you want to do after you leave Hogwarts, Draco?” Her voice was sweet and unassuming, even if openly curious.

“I’m not sure long-term, but for now I’m trying to get an internship at the Ministry,” Draco replied politely.

“Oh, tosh,” Professor Slughorn said, waving his hands dismissively. “He’s just being modest. Mr. Malfoy has already been accepted for his internship, and it’s not just anywhere in the Ministry. He’s going to be shadowing the Minister of Magic himself!”

“That’s impressive.” Mrs. Potter raised her eyebrows at him in surprise. “Your grades must be impeccable.”

“They’re all right, I suppose,” Draco replied, physically shrugging it off.

“All right? They are amazing!” 

Draco couldn’t help but be surprised at how vehemently supportive his professor was being. Perhaps Slughorn wanted Mrs. Potter to like him just as much as he did. 

“Draco is arguably the best student in his year  _ and _ Head Boy.”

Well, as much as Draco agreed with that statement, he couldn’t let Mrs. Potter become annoyed that her son was being pushed to the side. He knew he had to do some careful manoeuvring. 

“Perhaps not the best, Professor. I’m often competing with Granger for first place and neither of us can beat Potter at Defence Against the Dark Arts.” He spoke truthfully enough. Potter  _ was _ good at D.A.D.A., even if it pained Draco to say so.

“Is that so?” 

Mrs. Potter started to say something else, but the rest of her speech was lost to Draco because his eyes had decided just then to wander and he’d come across the most beautiful sight.

Ginny was standing not ten steps away from them, eyes darting around the office as if looking for someone. She was wearing a long-sleeved, off-the-shoulder dress of dark green that exposed her elegant neck. The smooth velvet of it was tight around her upper body and clinched at the waist by a tiny black belt but, after that, fell loosely to just below her knees. The top half of her hair was pulled back from her face by an intricate bun and the rest of it fell in loose waves down her back.

Draco was probably staring, but when before he was wearing a careful mask of politeness, now he couldn’t care less. She was fucking beautiful and he was allowed to stare, even if just for a few seconds.

Their eyes met and his breath hitched in his chest when she smiled brightly at him. The corner of his mouth raised involuntarily in response.

“My apologies, Mrs. Potter, Professor.” Draco turned his attention back to the two adults and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “My friend just arrived and I should greet her properly and stay with her until her guest comes along.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Potter’s eyes were trying to follow his previous line of sight. 

Draco quickly grabbed her hand in his and raised it to his lips to place a small kiss. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Potter.” The grin he aimed at her was completely genuine and entirely uncontrolled, but he didn’t even care. “I hope we meet again.”

“Likewise,” she replied, but he was already gone.

He stopped only briefly to get two glasses of elf-made wine from a passing house-elf and was happy to find she’d been waiting for him. He handed her one of the glasses and smiled at the pink that dusted her cheeks when their fingers touched..

“You look lovely.” He spoke it so earnestly it even surprised him. Of course she looked bloody amazing, but it was not like he’d intended to say it like that. Like a twelve year old or a fool.

But then she rolled her eyes and let out a tiny giggle and suddenly it was okay.

“You look dashing yourself.” Ginny smiled mischievously at him and took a sip of her wine. “I could have been a minor, though. Are you sure it’s appropriate to be giving me wine?”

“It’s Christmas.” He shrugged and she laughed.

“Not that you seem to care, but I thought I’d let you know I’ve been perfectly legal since August.”

“Really?” Draco raised his eyebrows at her. “We’re not even a year apart, then.”

“When is your birthday?” She cocked her head at him, a slight smile still playing on her lips.

“November eighteenth,” he answered before taking a sip of his wine. 

Ginny’s eyes widened. “That’s like the day after we began our tutoring lessons! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would I tell you that before—“ He cut himself off before he could reveal more than he intended.

“Before?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Before we became friends.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Friends?” She smiled at him, that smile that was full of mischief and playfulness and that he absolutely adored.

“Friends.” 

His lips were once again forming a smile without his consent. He was saved from further embarrassment, however, by Loony Lovegood’s arrival. 

Ginny didn’t need to introduce them, as they’d already met at the impromptu hang out in the Prefect’s Bathroom. Draco took her hand in his and kissed it like he had Mrs. Potter, only because he knew he’d get a reaction. And a reaction he got. Luna’s eyes went impossibly wider as she let out a surprised little ”Oh!”, and Ginny snickered beside him.

The two girls continued their conversation for a while with Draco occasionally giving his input before he felt eyes on him. Turning a bit to the side, he noticed Mrs. Potter looking at him quite intensely, as if she was trying to figure out a difficult puzzle. 

.

Ginny didn’t know exactly how she had got there, but suddenly there she was with Luna on one side and Draco on the other as they all talked with Daphne, Pansy and Blaise. Draco had somehow managed to direct the two girls towards his friends by the food table. After a glass of wine or two, the conversation was flowing surprisingly well. 

Luna and Blaise seemed to be in a deep discussion that had her best friend waving enthusiastically, but what surprised Ginny the most was the look on the older boy’s face. He was completely focused on her, his head nodding every once in a while and eyes shining in enjoyment.

Before Ginny could continue to admire the two, a photographer approached them and asked if he could take their picture. Luna immediately said yes before any of them could refuse, and suddenly Draco was putting a hand on Ginny’s back and guiding her closer to him. She was thankful that she had enough presence of mind to remember to smile, because it was as if her world had completely narrowed to the two of them or, more specifically, the point of contact between them.

His hand was large and impossibly warm against her lower back. The warmth coming from it and the slight press of his arm to her shoulder felt amazing. She tried to suppress a shudder when she thought that if just the simplest of touches could get her like that, imagine if he was truly—

No.

She shouldn’t go there. Just now he’d said they were  _ friends.  _ She shouldn’t be getting any ideas. It was probably her hormones talking—those  _ had _ been a bit crazy of late. But, really, it was his fault for looking like  _ that _ .

Draco was wearing a charcoal grey three-piece suit that followed the lean lines of his muscles perfectly. The black shirt and red tie looked like they would look particularly good on her bedroom floor, and his hair was parted neatly on the side, letting only a few strands loose near his eyebrow.

He looked like sin and she couldn’t even try and deny it.

She’d always known in a distant sort of way that Draco Malfoy was handsome. She’d heard it enough from her roommates, and the grapevine often depicted him as a starring role in many girls’ fantasies. There had even been an edition of  _ Witch Weekly _ that had put him as the third most eligible bachelor, and he wasn’t even out of school yet.

Now, she knew that all the things she had thought complete exaggerations were, in fact, complete understatements. Draco wasn’t just handsome. He was quite possibly  _ the _ most handsome guy she’d ever met.

His aristocratic features had become the content of most of her dreams lately—his straight nose, high cheekbones and sculpted, thin mouth. The arch of his eyebrow when he lifted it was absolutely insane, and the dark, mercurial pools of his eyes were something she could certainly get lost in.

She remembered from her hazy memories from that night in the bathroom that whatever he was hiding beneath his clothes was marvellous.

“You’re red.” His smooth voice spoke from way too near and, at the same time, not near enough. “Maybe I should cut you off on that wine.”

Ginny rolled her eyes at him and smiled. “I bet I could drink you under the table,” she challenged.

Draco’s eyes twinkled when he leaned forward. They weren’t close enough to be touching but definitely close enough to be friendly, and she could suddenly smell his aftershave. It was musky and had a hint of cinnamon and was making her positively dizzy.

“Prove it.” 

The deep baritone of his voice sent shivers from her temples to her toes, and her breath hitched in response. Heat pooled low in her belly as his eyes darkened further. 

“Not here, though,” he said. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

.

  
  


Draco had no idea when he’d been getting ready for the night that it would have ended up like this, with Ginny Weasley in his quarters and a bottle of Swott Malt Whisky between them. He sure was glad for it, though. In his head, this had been a long time coming. 

He’d taken his shoes and socks off and gestured for her to do the same when they’d first entered, and now there she was: barefoot and sitting on top of his desk while he hung his suit and grabbed the bottle.

“Ladies first.” He smirked at her and stepped closer to hand over the whisky. 

Ginny took it like a pro, not cringing even a little bit, and Draco found himself impressed. This wasn’t butterbeer. It was a quality blend that packed quite a punch. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Again, growing up with Fred and George has its perks.” She held the bottle out for him but kept it close enough to her so that he had to take a step forward to get it.

Draco took his own mouthful without taking his eyes off her. As the whisky settled in his stomach, another type of warmth settled even lower. The only light in the room was the small lamp on the desk and it was reflecting on her hair, making it look like liquid fire. Her eyes were dark, only a thin ring of Firewhisky golden brown visible.

She took her second sip slowly, almost sensuously, and Draco was lost. His gaze wandered down her neck to that same beauty mark that had completely driven him insane the past few weeks, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting his lips finally— _ finally _ —touch it.

Ginny exhaled sharply at the contact, the skin beneath his lips vibrating as she hummed a surprised sound. A small trickle of whisky escaped her mouth and ran down her throat, and Draco followed it up with his tongue until he reached her pink little mouth. He didn’t hesitate before slanting his lips over hers and neither did she when she opened up for him. His tongue immediately entered her mouth, slowly gliding with hers. Draco framed her jaw with his hands and tilted her head just so to deepen the kiss even further.

He distantly heard her setting the bottle down, but then her hands were on his sides, pulling him closer, and he knew nothing else beside her. She opened her legs to fit him between them and he let his hands slide from her knees to her thighs, taking her dress with them as he went. Her body on his, even through all the layers, was exquisite. He knew he was already hooked.

She tasted like Firewhisky and mint toothpaste, and her smell—like a bouquet of flowers—was intoxicating. He was all consumed by a beat of  _ GinnyGinnyGinny _ that echoed the loud bass of his heart in his ears, and he could think of nothing else but her.

When before they’d started out slow and sensual, a curious urgency soon settled over them and pieces of clothing were being discarded faster and faster. She had trouble with his cufflinks and belt, but soon enough he was shirtless before her with his trousers halfway down his legs.

He’d been pleasantly surprised that she hadn’t been wearing a bra and took full advantage of it, his mouth closing around a rosy nipple before her dress had even hit the floor. Ginny moaned the most delicious of sounds as her hands glided from his back to the front of his boxers, pulling them down slowly.

Her hand closed around him just as he was making his way back up to her kiss her, and he couldn’t help but press a groan to the smooth skin of throat. He had to catch his breath before he could continue—it  _ had _ been a while for him—but then he was sucking her bottom lip in his mouth and eagerly pressing forward.

He squeezed her hips with one hand and brought the other to tighten her grip around him before deepening the kiss. When he finally slid a finger beneath the dark lace of her knickers, they both had to break the kiss to exhale loudly.

She was already  _ so wet. _

Draco was scared for a moment because it was all feeling  _ too good _ and he didn’t want it to end so soon, so he took her hand off his length and gently guided it to his shoulder. Ginny used that hand to grab the hair at the nape of his neck and  _ pull, _ and he couldn’t help but follow the movement and groan.

He took his hand out of her knickers and huffed a laugh when she muffled a disappointed noise on his shoulder, but then she took advantage of the way he was exposing his throat and started sucking on it. He could only muster enough focus to continue what he’d been doing. He took off her last piece of clothing with the help of her raised hips and let it too fall to the floor, then pulled her forward so that they were completely flush together. Her nipples pebbled against his chest with each breath they took and his cock was firmly pressed against her sex.

Draco managed to clear his head enough to pull back and mutter, “The spell.”

Ginny nodded a bit, her eyes wide as he bent to get his wand from his trousers and took the opportunity to step out of them.

“Right,” she breathed. “I’d completely forgotten.”

His eyes met hers as he pointed the wand to her lower belly and murmured the spell. It was quickly discarded to join their clothes on the floor, however, and in no time at all he was kissing her again.

Ginny raised her legs and used her feet to push his boxers all the way down. Draco quickly grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her easily, pressing her closer to him as he took her to his bed. She gasped against his mouth, but soon used her hands on his hair and shoulder to balance herself. 

He took a moment to appreciate the sight of her on his Slytherin-green silk sheets before he covered her with his body. Her mouth seemed to be a magnet he couldn’t keep away from if he tried, her taste even more intoxicating by the minute.

He spread her legs further apart and slid himself between her folds slowly, hitting her clit with the head of his cock with every upward stroke but never quite entering her.

“Stop being a tease, Malfoy,” Ginny murmured against his lips. 

Before he could reply, she was already pushing him sideways to invert their position. In the next second, she was supporting herself with one hand on his chest while the other guided him to her entrance. She lowered herself over him slowly, almost tortuously so, before she was fully seated.

With her straddling him like that, he could see her better. The paleness of her thighs and the short dark-red curls at the apex where they met, the taught skin of her belly and the perfect shape of her modest breasts. His hands followed the path his eyes took, gently brushing her nipples but not stopping there, even as she moaned.

He slid both his hands up her neck to tangle in her hair to search for what was keeping it up. When he found nothing, he only smirked at her and used wandless magic to counter the spell that had been put there. Her dark hair fell around her in gentle waves and his smirk grew.

“Impressive.” She grinned at him, her voice breathy.

Draco only hummed and used both hands to guide her hips to a sharp thrust. Ginny had to balance herself with both hands on his chest as she gasped and he groaned. Even from all his imagining, he couldn’t possibly have predicted that being inside her would be  _ that good. _ He couldn’t think of anything else, the only feeling he could concentrate on being the hot embrace of her inner walls as she set a deliciously slow pace.

For a moment the only sounds around his room were their harsh breaths and occasional moans. Ginny became even more vocal when he changed the angle slightly, and she placed her hands beside his head to be able to lean forward and kiss him.

This kiss was desperate, all frantic tongues and teeth, and was quickly broken when she gasped and leaned backwards. He could feel her walls fluttering around him and took the opportunity to tighten his hands around her hips to set a faster rhythm to satisfy them both.

By the time he felt her squeezing around him, he was already gone. His release washed over him like a tidal wave, leaving him panting and sweaty in its wake, completely unable to catch his breath. Ginny all but collapsed on top of him, her forehead resting on his as they both stayed still for a while, breathing harshly into each other’s mouths.

“Fuck,” she whispered against his lips, and Draco could only agree.

After a few seconds of catching their breaths, Ginny rolled to her back and they both just lay there, unfocused eyes on the ceiling of his canopy bed. 

Draco stretched his arm to his bedside table to grab a pack of cigarettes. “Do you mind?” he asked, one fag already between his lips.

“If you don’t mind sharing,” was her still breathless reply.

Draco smirked and lit the end of the cigarette with a snap of his fingers. He took a lungful before passing it to her.

“You’re pretty good at wandless magic,” Ginny said, rich smoke escaping her lips.

He hummed in response and accepted the cigarette back. “Long summers at Malfoy Manor.”

They continued to share the fag in silence, their bodies completely relaxed as they basked in the afterglow. Sweet Salazar, it had been some time since he’d had such good sex. And even the best sex he could remember hadn’t come close to this. It had been a whole new experience for him.

But before long, Ginny was getting up and moving around the room, putting her underwear back on.

“You could stay,” he offered while lifting himself to balance on one elbow. His other hand ran through his sweat-soaked hair.

Ginny grinned and put one knee beside him so she could lean down to kiss him. Draco brought his free hand to tangle in her hair and pull her closer, but after a few beats of slow, sensual kissing, she backed away.

“I can’t stay, Draco.” She pulled back completely and turned around to shimmy into her dress. “My brother will already have a fit when he realises I didn’t come back to Gryffindor with Harry as I said I would. I really don’t need to make it worse by coming back the next morning.”

Draco just frowned for a second before turning to untuck his sheets from beneath him. The sweat on his body was already cooling and he could definitely feel just how cold the winter night was. 

“Close this for me?” She gave her back to him.

Draco was never one to let opportunities pass by. He pulled her to sit on the bed and followed the line of the zipper with his lips as he closed her dress. He bit on the juncture of her neck and shoulder, hearing her delicious gasp before he soothed the skin with his tongue. He kissed his way up to her ear as one of his hands circled around her and pressed on her belly to get her closer.

“For you to remember me during the hols, love,” he whispered in her ear before nipping at her earlobe. 

  
  
  


Ginny let out a breathy sort of laugh and rolled her eyes at him from over her shoulder before her gaze fell on his nightstand. “ _ Provectus Potio: The Art of Making Advanced Potions _ ,” she read out the title of the book that’d been on his bedside table since third year. “Is it any good?”

Draco nodded before leaning back on his pillows. He crossed his arms behind his head and looked at her. “Another of Jigger’s works. In this one he gets a bit more lyrical. I think you’d enjoy it.”

“I might,” she hummed, and opened it to read the first few pages.

“Looks like I found your Christmas present.”

“Sure.” She laughed and shook her head before setting the book down and turning to look at him properly. Her eyes traveled the expanse of his exposed chest and settled on his own. “Happy Christmas, Draco.”

Draco brought one of his hands to her face to pull her in for a last kiss. Their mouths glided together, neither of them deepening the kiss, before he pulled away to murmur on her lips. “Happy Christmas, Ginny.”

And with a last grin in his direction, she was gone. Draco settled himself fully beneath his sheets and closed his eyes. The sleep that followed was deep and dreamless.

.

.

.

  
  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Dungeon Five Ch. 9**

  
  
  
  


It was barely ten o’clock on Christmas day and Ginny was already tired. As was tradition, the Order always gathered to celebrate. That year they were at the Potter’s place, and even though she loved the house on Godric’s Hollow, she resented the fact that she couldn’t just retreat to her room for some piece and quiet.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like to spend time with her family—because that was definitely what the Order was: family—it was just that, after some time, the noise could easily get to you. So she grabbed herself a cuppa from the Potter’s kitchen, bunched herself up in some warm clothes, and headed outside to sit on the table they usually gathered around in the summer. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable of places to be, and certainly not the warmest, but with a quick warming spell it was enough to give her some time alone to think.

That morning they had all opened the presents together. Like all the Christmases since Ginny could remember, one person read the cards out loud and handed over each one. That year, Aunt Lily had read them. 

The first present, right on top of the pile, was a rectangle package wrapped in black with a silver bow magically glued to it. 

“Ginny,” Aunt Lily read out loud, “hope you enjoy this as much as I have. DM.”

It wasn’t anything exactly incriminating, but Ginny knew the hidden meaning behind it and felt her stomach plummet at the thought that someone else had too. With her family urging her to open her gift, she considered her options. She could lie, she supposed, but somehow it didn’t feel right.

She found herself  _ wanting _ to tell them about this wonderfully complicated boy who had somehow become her friend and, well, perhaps a bit more. By the time she’d flashed the book around, she had decided to tell a half truth.

“ _ Provectus Potio _ ,” Fred read over her shoulder. “Who gave you a book on  _ potions?  _ What an awful gift.”

Ginny was ready to go into her carefully thought out explanations, but Aunt Lily spoke before she could.

“Draco Malfoy,” she said with a sly smile that put Ginny on edge. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Ginny looked at her with wide eyes. “How did you know?”

Aunt Lily laughed her usual tinkling bell laugh. “I had a chat with him during Horace’s Christmas party. He said he had to go keep a friend company and the next thing I see, you two are talking. That combined with the fact that Horace was positively gushing about how good a Potion student he is…”

“Ah, I—“ Ginny stuttered for a bit.

“Friend?” Ron said, his eyes narrowed and face already getting red. “I thought you said he was just tutoring you in Potions.”

“You’re being tutored in Potions?” Her mother exclaimed, and Ginny gulped. “You didn’t say anything about needing tutoring!”

“Or about being friends with  _ Malfoy, _ ” Harry muttered with a frown. “He’s a tosser, Gin.”

“Language, Harry,” Aunt Lily admonished, making the tips of Harry’s ears go red.

“But he is!” Ron complained. “He’s always bullying his way around Hogwarts and everybody hates him!”

“That’s not true!” Ginny frowned at her brother and Harry. She could feel herself starting to lose her temper, so she took a deep breath and continued calmly, “Draco happens to be a great teacher and a good friend of mine, so I’d appreciate if you stopped saying bad things about him.”

There was a heavy silence after that and Ginny had no idea what to do with it. A knot seemed to be stuck in her throat and she fought the ridiculous need to cry. Would they always think so poorly of Draco? She figured they had reason to, especially Ron and Harry, but still … it was disheartening.

Her only consolation was that the rest of her family didn’t have the same sour expressions on their faces. Sure, they were surprised and her mum certainly looked like she wasn’t pleased about Ginny needing tutoring, but that was it.

“I think we should take Ginny’s word for this, don’t you?” Aunt Lily raised her eyebrows emphatically at her son. “Besides, when me met at the party, he was a perfect gentleman.” 

And then she grabbed the next gift on the pile and continued as if nothing had happened.

Ginny felt a mix of relief and anxiety settle over her. It was good to have their ”friendship” out in the open, but the reaction to it was as far from warm as possible. She figured it was okay, though. The Malfoys  _ had _ always been a topic of contempt at her house. At least her dad didn’t say anything about it.

She was shaken out of her reveries by Aunt Lily’s hand on her shoulder. The start she gave would have been embarrassing if she hadn’t accidentally poured tea on her gloves.

“Oh, dear,” Aunt Lily snickered, “sorry about the scare, love. Let me clean that up for you.”

The older woman sat down next to her after drying her gloves and smiled brilliantly before pushing some of Ginny’s hair behind her ears. Ginny smiled at the familiar act. 

Aunt Lily wasn’t exactly her aunt, biologically speaking, but she and Uncle James had always insisted on being called that. Lily was the one Ginny had always gone to for help. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d wished she could grow up to be just like her. Lily’s red hair was always shiny and long and beautiful, and her laugh sounded like angels singing.

Ginny blushed at her internal gushing. Aunt Lily was the cool mum she wished she had.

Not that she didn’t love her own mother dearly, but it was hard to talk to her about some things. For example, the fact that she wasn’t exactly a virgin and hadn’t been for some time now. If her mum had her way, Ginny would be celibate for the rest of her life.

“So,” Aunt Lily said with a twinkle in her emerald-green eyes. “Wanna tell me just how good a kisser the Malfoy boy is?”

“I—you.” Ginny gaped at the older woman. “How could you possibly—“

She cut herself off before she could further incriminate herself, but Aunt Lily just laughed.

“No boy smiles at a girl like he did at you at the party if he didn’t want something.” Her smile grew. “And no girl smiles back like you did if she didn’t want it too.”

Ginny felt warmth spread on her cheeks again as she whispered a small, “Oh.” 

The woman was ridiculously intuitive.

“So,” Aunt Lily pressed while wiggling her brows suggestively, “by the different shades of red you’re blushing right now, I’d guess he’s a pretty good kisser.”

Ginny put the now cold tea down and immediately covered her face with her hands. “He’s a  _ phenomenal _ kisser,” she groaned. “How is it fair that he looks like that, talks like that, and is  _ still  _ a bloody good … kisser?”

“Oh.” Lily raised her eyebrows and gave a little snort. “Seems like things went further than kissing.”

Ginny only grunted in acknowledgement but let her aunt make her assumptions. 

“Did he treat you right?” Aunt Lily asked. 

Ginny could only nod miserably in response. 

“Were you two careful?” Her voice was more serious now.

“Good Godric, Aunt Lily,” Ginny whinged, then shook her head before nodding and whispering, “Of course we were.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Her aunt cocked her head.

“I don’t know!” Ginny threw her hands in the air in exasperation.

“Nothing’s wrong, I suppose,” she continued. It’s just that I’m a little uncertain of where we stand now.”

Aunt Lily hummed in sympathy before patting her hand. “I know it’s going to sound like I’m completely off my rocker,” she said with an amused look on her face, “but have you considered, you know,  _ talking _ to him?” The older woman faked a shudder.

Ginny stared at her for a moment before snorting. The two of them giggled together.

“You’re right,” Ginny said. “I shouldn’t complicate things.” She smiled at the older redhead and squeezed her hand in appreciation. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” Aunt Lily squeezed her hand back.

.

If there was one thing that embodied the meaning of home for Draco, it was Malfoy Manor. Not in the sense that it was where his bed was or something as simplistic as that. It was much more than that.

The Manor was alive. The halls he had explored as a child were ever-changing, each painting carefully dissected by his young eyes. He’d spent long summers exploring the halls, figuring out each and every secret passage there was to find. He played explorer, pirate and, at one point, detective with his only company being Dobby and his mother.

The library was definitely his favourite part, though. It rivalled the school’s archives and Draco was pretty sure he’d read most of the books in there, taking care to commit every piece of information to his memory. 

Throughout his childhood, the only interaction he had with kids his age had been formal parties or whenever his mother’s friends came over with their children for tea, so the books had become his solace when he was done familiarising himself with the layout of the place.

Draco really and truly loved the Manor.

He went out to his mother’s favourite part of the garden to smoke a fag. The gardens were preserved from the cold by magic so the flowers that his mother had carefully overseen were still in full bloom. The smell hit him hard and suddenly all he could think about was Ginny.

The flowers he had smelled on her—magnolia, sweet pea and rose—were planted in his mother’s garden, and he was awestruck for a moment. Ginny smelled like his garden. Ginny smelled like  _ home _ .

“I wish you wouldn’t do that, my son,” his mother said from behind him, and he had to fight the instinct to jump. 

“I think I deserve this one cigarette, Mother,” Draco said, but took only one last drag before vanishing the fag.

“Your father will come around.” She came to stand next to him, overlooking the gardens. “I’ll make sure of it.”

His conversation with his father had gone terribly, as he should have expected. The minute he’d explained his thoughts and further provided evidence that they were in fact  _ wrong, _ his father had become defensive. One thing had led to another and soon enough they were full out fighting. Of course, things ended with Draco backing out, as usual.

“I’m surprised you haven’t taken his side.” Draco looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “You did side with Aunt Bella and cast your sister out of the family for marrying a Muggle.”

A shadow of  _ something _ passed over his mother’s eyes and her voice held an unexpected heaviness to it.

“One of my greatest regrets, I’m afraid.” She had a faraway look on her face, as if she wasn’t exactly standing next to him, but in the past instead. “Your father reacted so badly because this wasn’t the first conversation he’s had about this.”

“What?” Draco turned fully towards his mother and met her icy blue eyes.

“Your grandfather, Abraxas, held the same thoughts as you do, my son.” She sighed deeply. “He always said that we had to be careful not to deviate from our roots too much. He thought that we were heading straight into another war with our way of thinking and that it wouldn’t benefit us in any way.”

His mother was looking at him, but Draco had a feeling she wasn’t exactly seeing him. She continued without pause as if she was deeply lost in whatever memory she had conjured.

“I always admired him very much. I wasn’t alive during the war, of course, but he used to tell us that the Malfoys suffered from it, even with our fortune. Abraxas was very vocal about his discontent; he thought that Malfoys should never bow to such common thoughts, that we were above all that. He used to think that what mattered wasn’t blood purity, but money, power and influence.”

“Then came your father, blind with the ideals his friends had. It created a wedge between them, you see. By the time your grandfather was dying, their fights were … intense to say the least. I believe Lucius became so insistent with his beliefs to spite his father.” She laughed a bit. “He’s always been awfully stubborn, my husband.”

“I wish I remembered Grandfather,” Draco admitted quietly, afraid to break his mother’s train of thought.

Her eyes seemed to focus on him then, and a gentle smile came to her face as she put her warm hand to his cheek. “He loved you very much.” Her smiled turned a bit rueful. “And I believe you would have made him very proud today.”

Draco sighed and took her hand in his before gently putting it down.

“Don’t you worry, Draco,” his mother assured him. “What you said to your father today brought back some memories for him, but he will calm down eventually.”

“I’m afraid that I can never go back to thinking the way I did, Mother.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “And I’m afraid of what that might mean for us as a family.”

“Nonsense. Family is everything, Draco. If your father can’t see that right now, then I shall make certain that he does eventually.”

Draco felt his chest fill with warmth. His mother, like always, was there to protect him, to stand by his side. He took her slim face in his hands and gently pressed a kiss to her forehead in a rare display of affection. “Thank you, mother.” 

He smirked at her surprised expression and turned to go back inside. It was only when he already had the back doors open that he heard her say something very, very quietly.

“Perhaps it’s time we focused on doing what’s right for our family again.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Dungeon Five Ch. 10**

  
  
  
  


Hogwarts Express stopped at Hogsmeade when the sun had already gone down. Winter was in full swing, the nights were cold and long, and Draco just really wanted some hot tea and his bed. Instead, he got to hurdle in the queue for the carriages with the other students.

His dragon hide boots, gloves and coat were warm, sure, but he was getting impatient from standing in the cold.

“What is taking so bloody long?” Pansy muttered next to him, frowning spectacularly.

Blaise leaned to the right to see beyond the group of fifth years in front of them. “There seems to be some kind of problem with the Regulators.”

Draco followed his line of sight and his heart sunk in his chest at what he saw. Ginny was with her friends right outside the Main Gates, arguing heatedly with Rudolphus Lestrange, the Hogwarts Regulator, and, coincidently, his uncle.

He cast a very hasty, “Be right back” over his shoulder and quickly moved to where the group was holding up the line. As he got closer, he managed to get the last of the conversation.

“He says he has the money on the train!” Ginny exclaimed. “If you just give him some time to get it—“

But Rudolphus interrupted her. “His parents had the whole break to send the money. If you don’t have it now, then the law dictates I apprehend you on sight.”

“I told you already, the roads were blocked because of the snow!” Colin threw his hands in the air. “We couldn’t get anywhere near Gringotts and I don’t own an owl.”

“Aren’t you a wizard, boy?” The older man grinned nastily at him.

“He’s a  _ minor.”  _

Draco sped up his pace as he noticed the note of danger in Ginny’s voice. Because her back was turned to him, he could clearly see her hand inching towards her wand. 

“Now you listen to me,” Ginny continued, “you dimwitted,  _ inbred—“ _

Draco managed to close his hand around her wrist just as she was about to draw her wand. He used his hold on her to discreetly pull her back, then met his uncle’s gaze head on, his face a carefully blank mask, eyebrows raised. “What seems to be the problem here, Uncle?” he asked, the picture of aloofness and boredom.

“The mudblood here didn’t pay his entrance fee.” 

Ginny was positively shaking next to him. “How dare—” 

“Right.” Draco spoke loudly over Ginny. “I suppose it’s only a matter of paying it now, correct?” He fished five Galleons from his pocket and handed them over. “Here you go, that should do. Now, how about we all go on with our evening?”

He took Ginny and Colin by their shoulders and guided them past his frowning uncle without looking back.

“You should be careful of who you side with, boy.”

Draco immediately stopped on his tracks. He didn’t turn back, but he could feel the eyes of the students on him and the complete silence of everyone around them. He was ready to let it slide, but then Rudolphus opened his mouth again.

“Wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’re a blood-traitor like the Weasley harlot over there.”

Draco was on him in an instant. He had thankfully restrained himself enough that he didn’t outright punch his uncle right there, but still he loomed over the shorter man easily and stepped into his personal space. “I would think very carefully of who you’re saying this to.” Draco spoke through his teeth, his voice menacingly low. “You may be an officer of the Ministry, but I assure you,  _ Uncle, _ ” he spat the word, “even from Hogwarts, I have more sway than you do. You do not want to antagonise me.”

Rudolphus just continued to sneer at him, but Draco had seen the flash of fear in his eyes, and it was enough for him. He turned around without another word and joined Ginny and Colin on the carriage. He sat next to Colin and opposite Ginny.

“Are you out of your mind?” he hissed at Ginny once they were in motion. “What did you think you were going to accomplish by pulling a wand on a Ministry official like that?”

“He was harassing us.” She narrowed her eyes at him and made to continue speaking, but Draco didn’t let her. 

“No, you shut up now.” He pointed a finger at her. “They wouldn’t have actually arrested Colin because he is a minor, but you are  _ an adult _ under the eyes of the law, Ginny.  _ Act like it. _ ”

Ginny looked angry and chastised, like she was feeling bad even as she was considering murdering him. Draco took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. His heart was still racing and he felt almost faint with anxiety.

It was Colin’s quiet voice that broke them out of their tense silence. 

“Thank you, Malfoy.” The boy looked at him earnestly. “I’ll pay you back when we get to the castle.”

Draco nodded and exhaled forcibly through his nose. He fished a cigarette pack from beneath his robes and handed one to each of the others before lighting them. 

The ride back to the castle was tense and done in complete silence as they finished their fags, hands shaking and hearts racing.

.

Draco was so worried with everything that had happened that he completely forgot to speak to Ginny about their next tutoring session. It was only the next day, as Draco was coming from Charms to his quarters and Ginny was leaving Potions, that they accidentally crossed paths and he found his opportunity.

She was walking alone, her bag slung over her shoulder carelessly as she frowned at her feet. Her hair was up in her usual ponytail, swinging slightly behind her and reflecting the dim light of the dungeons. 

Draco felt his heart skip a beat—actually fucking skip a beat—when her eyes met his.

“Hey,” Draco said when he got close enough. “Walk with me?”

“Sure.” Ginny’s voice was quiet as she turned to walk in step with him.

A few students looked their way curiously, but everyone seemed more eager to get to dinner instead of learning of the new gossip. Draco and Ginny made their way practically undisturbed to his Head Boy quarters.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he said, putting his bag on his desk.

Ginny shook her head, following his lead and taking her shoes off. She looked at him, eyes shining with uncertainty and a slight grimace on her face. “No, you were right.” She sighed and moved to drop her own bag next to his. “I should have been more careful. I just got so upset that he was being a dick and no one was helping us.”

Draco sat heavily on his chair and loosened his tie before running a hand through his hair. “I know,” he agreed with her quietly.

“There were so many students there, Draco!” She threw her hands in the air in frustration. “No one came forward to offer to pay, even people that  _ knew _ Collin.”

She crossed her arms as she stood in front of him, her eyes becoming glassy with tears. Draco finally understood the extent of her frustration. It wasn’t just that no one had helped, it was that  _ she _ couldn’t help because she didn’t have the money.

He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms. The strange feeling in his chest was so unfamiliar; he wasn’t used to feeling bad for someone else. If it meant that he’d never get to feel like this again, he would gladly take away all of her suffering.

Except he didn’t know how. So Draco did the only thing he  _ could _ do at the moment.

He got up and closed the distance between them. His arms went around her shoulders, one hand coming to rest on her back and the other beneath the elastic holding her ponytail up. Ginny tensed initially but quickly melted in his arms. Her little hands clutched at the back of his shirt as she pressed her forehead to his neck.

When she stepped back, Draco saw that there weren’t any tear tracks on her cheeks, so she hadn’t let her tears fall. It made his heart ache even more to see this beautiful, strong woman in front of him fighting back her emotions.

“You did.” Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, and her eyes fixed on his chest.

“What?”

Ginny looked at him then, and for a second it was as if she had sucked all the oxygen in the room. Her eyes were shining again, this time not with tears but with admiration. He’d never had someone look at him that way. It felt … good.

“You did, Draco.” She smiled gently at him and stepped closer. “You helped us. Thank you.”

He didn’t have to think of anything to say because then her lips were on his and his mind blanked out completely.

The kiss was chaste. Their lips were merely pressing against each other, no open mouths with dancing tongues and battling teeth, but the intensity was like nothing else. It made itself known in the way her body warmed his, in the gentle urging of her fingers on his back, in the tiny sigh she breathed when their lips parted.

It was the most intimate experience he’d ever had.

Their eyes met and Draco was struck with how much he wanted. He wanted to say how he had missed her terribly during the break. He wanted to tell her that she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He wanted to scream with how much he  _ wanted. _

However, be it because of pride or just his inability to properly understand what he was feeling, the words wouldn’t leave his mouth. They formed on his tongue only to be barricaded by his lips, so he swallowed them down and did the only thing he was used to doing. 

He brought his hands to her jaw and tilted her head so he could slant his mouth over hers more firmly. He poured everything he was feeling into the kiss, the physicality of it making him at ease. He didn’t know anything about this feeling that made his chest ache and heart beat faster, but he did know lust and desire.

He knew how to shape it, to take full advantage of it, and that’s what he did. 

.

.

.


	11. Chapter 11

**Dungeon Five Ch. 11**

  
  
  


The first week back at Hogwarts was a busy one for Ginny. The teachers had piled them with work, as usual. Whatever time the sixth years weren’t spending on completing essays was spent at the library or in the common room studying for the midterms.

Ginny’s tutoring sessions with Draco had become less productive. They sometimes managed to get some potion-making training done, but they got distracted. Easily.

It could be said that they got intimately familiarised with the other pieces of furniture in the Dungeon Five office.

Ginny, Colin and Luna were at the library after lunch. They sat around one of the smallest tables at the back and pretended to be getting some work done. It wasn’t their fault, really. They had just spent the last two hours exchanging notes and quizzing each other on Transfiguration and now they needed a break.

Colin was talking about some celebrity or another and Luna was doodling on her notes. Ginny, on the other hand, was positively bursting at the seams with how much she wanted to tell them about Draco. It wasn’t just some need to tell others about  _ him, _ specifically; it was more that she was beginning to have some doubts and she needed insight from someone on the outside.

She wasn’t one to overanalyse things or relationships, but everything with Draco was an exception. They were just  _ so different _ in so many aspects, and that made her uneasy. And then there was this little voice in the back of her head that whispered that she was overreacting, that they were just having a good shag every once in a while and that was it.

“And, I mean, have you girls seen the last edition of  _ Witch Weekly _ ?” Colin asked with a wave of his hand. “There’s a new list of the Hottest Bachelors. Apparently, our Harry dearest is in fourth place.”

“Oh?” Luna asked distractedly as she focused on her drawing.

“Yep, Oliver Wood is in first place, and, really, no one deserved first place more than him—amazing abs.” Colin flicked the page of the magazine he had hidden between his books. “Then we have Cedric Diggory, every girl’s wet dream.” He smirked at Ginny. “And our darling Draco Malfoy, richest young man in all of England.”

He turned the magazine around for them to see better. Contrary to the pictures of the first two men that were clearly taken on a studio, Draco’s picture was taken from a social event. He was posing next to his parents, though the photo had been cropped to focus on Draco. He was wearing a light grey three-piece with a crisp white shirt underneath and an icy blue tie, and he looked good enough to eat.

The words were out of Ginny’s mouth before she even realised it.

“I shagged Draco.”

There was complete silence, even the scratch of Luna’s quill against the parchment had ceased. Ginny didn’t dare look at their faces, so she kept her eyes fixed on the table in front of her and continued.

“It happened after Slughorn’s party last term, and then a few times since we came back to school.” She took a deep breath and said everything she had in one go. “Now, you guys know I’m not one for labels or anything, but I’m seriously beginning to get stressed out. Where is this going? I mean, he said—right before we shagged for the first time, may I add—that we were friends, but what about now? Is this just an occasional thing before we go back to being friends or is it more? Because if it is more, how would we ever manage that? We are so different! And—and our families hate each other!”

“All right, darling.” Colin grabbed both her hands that had been flailing around as she ranted and pinned them to table. “Let’s slow down a bit. You, our sweet Ginny, had sex with—“ he raised his eyebrows at her.

“Draco Malfoy,” Luna continued for him with wide eyes.

“Yes.” Ginny’s voice was quiet as she looked at her best friends. “And now I don’t know where we stand.” 

“Right, forget about that.” Colin shook his head at her. “How was it?”

Ginny looked at him and felt her whole face flush. Images of the last few days assaulting her senses with how he had touched, kissed and tasted every part of her body. His smooth skin, silky hair, his lips, his—

Ginny groaned and let her head fall on her arms that were still being held down by Colin. “It was bloody amazing. I may or may not have become a nymphomaniac this past week.”

Colin hooted with laughter and, when Ginny raised her head to look at them, she saw Luna was smiling too. After they were properly chastised by Madam Pince, Colin put his chin on his crossed hands and wiggled his eyebrows at her. Ginny just rolled her eyes and huffed in amusement.

“You aren’t being helpful at all, you know,” she whispered.

“And you are definitely overanalysing things, Gin,” Colin replied. “This has been going on for what? Two weeks? Slow down a bit, darling. You don’t have to have everything figured out by now. You two are having fun! Enjoy it.”

“You’re right.” Ginny nodded. “Besides, so far everything has been kind of strictly about sex with us. We have time to figure things out.”

“Except this is his last year at Hogwarts.” Luna grinned apologetically at her. “And we are already in the second term.”

“That still gives them about five months, Lu,” Collin said. “If it gives you any comfort, maybe you should talk to him.”

“Absolutely not.” Ginny shook her head and worried her bottom lip. “I’m not the kind of girl who gets clingy and insists on labelling things, okay? I’ll treat this as just two friends who get … friendlier sometimes until there’s a reason not to.” 

Yes, that sounded like a plan. What she was feeling was lust, pure and simple. No need to complicate things. She’d get it out of her system soon enough.

.

A month went by without Ginny noticing. She got swept up in a rather nice routine in which she successfully managed Quidditch, studying, time with her friends and still had time left for some much needed … stress relieving.

Sex with Draco was like nothing else Ginny had experienced before. Every touch with him seemed raw and intense and it  _ burned _ . 

She felt exposed sometimes. Not when he was deep inside her and she was almost delirious with lust, but afterwards, when he looked at her so intently she could swear he could see inside her soul, down to the foundations that made her  _ Ginny _ .

It scared her, she could finally admit to herself, the way his mercury pools branded her. Sometimes she could see something deeper behind them, something that took her breath away and that she was too chicken to admit to know what it was.

Draco never said anything, though. He always kept their interactions light and fun, and she was only too happy to follow his lead.

Slytherin played against Ravenclaw that Saturday afternoon and Ginny found it hard to keep her eyes off Draco. He flew on his top of the market broom expertly, his moves graceful and precise, and the look of concentration on his aristocratic face was very close to the one he had in the bedroom.

Looking at him was mesmerising.

The after party was to be held in the Slytherin common room. Only a few select students from other houses were allowed inside and, even then, they weren’t given the password. Ginny and Colin had agreed to meet Draco outside at seven in the evening.

The Slytherins had been partying since the game had ended at about a quarter to six, so it was really no surprise to see Draco still in his uniform. He was leaning against the wall casually with his hair still windswept and a smirk on his lips.

“Everybody is already pissed,” he greeted them.

“Good.” Ginny grinned cheekily at him. “Means we have to catch up.”

“Okay, okay, no time for flirting,” Colin interrupted them, a sly smile on his face. “I have some important business to attend to with some adrenaline pumped Quidditch players if you would get a move on.”

Draco snorted in amusement and rolled his eyes at them both, but turned around to mutter the password all the same. 

The common room was packed. All the furniture had been moved to the walls and a makeshift dance floor had been created right in the middle. The tables that were usually used for studying were now filled with food and drinks, and some of them were even occupied with students playing drinking games. The Weird Sisters were playing from a gramophone in the corner, and Ginny was instantly energised by the bass. 

Colin waved at them with a hurried “Ta!” and was gone in the next second, but Ginny didn’t mind because then Draco was pulling her towards one of the tables by her hand. His fingers were warm and she was struck momentarily by how big they looked next to hers before he was pushing a glass of … something towards her.

When she downed the contents—top shelf Firewhisky with Giggle Water, she recognised—Draco was already opening a bottle of Firewhisky for them to share. It was really no surprise that by the end of the night, Ginny was well and truly  _ drunk _ .

The party had gone by in a sort of haze. 

She didn’t really know what happened exactly, but she knew she had a good time. She was sure at one point she had been dancing between Pansy and Daphne and she vaguely recalled lips on hers. There was also a blurry image of Draco only in his boxers and a single sock while playing strip Exploding Snap.

Aside from that, the next clear memory she had was of stripping from her jeans and falling into Draco’s bed.

.

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Dungeon Five Ch.12**

  
  
  


Draco woke up the next morning with his face buried in Ginny’s hair. His head was pounding with a headache and he felt slightly nauseous. Last night had been a crazy one.

He huffed a pained laugh when he remembered that he had walked all the way from the common room to his quarters in just his boxers and one sock.

“What’re you laughin’ at, arsehole?” Ginny murmured against his chest. “I will murder you if you don’t close the blinds and go back to sleep. Quietly.”

Despite her harsh words, her voice was too low and pained for any heat to enter it. She slowly turned her face up to squint at him, her chin resting on his shoulder.

“Morning,” he greeted.

“Did we have sex?” She frowned a bit, as if trying to remember what happened.

Draco smirked. “The only action you got last night was some snogging with Pansy and Daph, love.”

Ginny’s eyes widened instantly before she quickly covered her face with her hands and went back to smudging it against his chest. “Did I really do that?” 

“Yep.”

After a bit of whinging and slurred promises of never getting drunk again, she popped her head back up to look at him inquisitively. “If we didn’t shag, why are you naked?” She cocked her head a bit to the side.

Draco frowned. “They were cheating on strip Exploding Snap,” he said grudgingly before a sheepish look crossed his face. “I believe my clothes are still back at the common room.”

Ginny snorted but it seemed to jostle her head too much, so she groaned and pressed her nose to his neck, no doubt trying to escape any light. “Only you could be this …  _ wordy _ hungover and so early in the morning,” she whispered against his skin.

“And you,” he pressed his lips to her hairline, “are extremely adorable under those same conditions.”

Ginny raised her head once again to look at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. “We slept together.” Something akin to anxiety crossed her eyes before being replaced by a look of pure uncertainty. “Actually slept. No funny business.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth raised imperceptibly before going back. “It appears so, yes.” He lowered his head to meet her eyes. “Does that bother you?”

Ginny hesitated and frowned at him. “Does it bother you?” 

“Not at all,” he replied easily, and watched as she nodded a bit.

“Okay.” 

Her face smoothed and he was satisfied to have settled her worries. No longer in the mood for words, he brought his free hand to her jaw and closed the distance between them. The kiss was languorous and deep and it woke him up better than anything.

Ginny was the one to lean back. “My head really hurts,” she whispered against his lips. 

Draco hummed back at her and lingered a moment longer before extricating himself and getting out of bed. He headed to his closet for his potion kit and took two vials back.

“This will help with the headache.” 

They both downed the contents quickly and he put them on top of his side table. 

“The only thing we can do about the nausea is eat, I’m afraid,” he said.

Ginny turned on her back and stretched as Draco settled back against the headboard.

“What time is it?” She looked up at him.

“We already missed breakfast.” Draco checked his watch. “It’s a quarter past eleven.”

“Oh, bugger.” Ginny covered her face with her hands again. “I have to go back to Gryffindor. Ron will already have a conniption as it is.”

She got up slowly and went about putting her clothes back on. It was something he had always enjoyed watching girls do. There was something undeniably sensual to the way they put themselves together that rivalled the way they undressed. It was like watching them put on armour, preparing to take on the world.

Ginny getting dressed was very different from Pansy. She had a sort of artfulness to her movements that seemed effortless and that was the complete opposite of Pansy’s perfunctory movements, which looked like she only did what was extremely necessary. Ginny had a particular way of putting on her bra and shimmying into her jeans that was captivating to him.

Draco rolled his eyes at himself. He was starting to sound like a sentimental fool.

With that, he quickly got up himself and headed towards Ginny. She was putting her hair up in its usual ponytail when he grabbed her around the waist and turned her into his arms. Draco swallowed her little squeak with his lips.

Her hands went around his neck, tangling in his messy hair as he deepened the kiss. He brought one hand under her shirt to stroke her back and let the other rest on her hips, squeezing lightly before he leaned back to look at her.

“See you tomorrow?” 

“Sure.” Ginny grinned at him before raising on her tiptoes to peck his lips again.

Draco gave her bottom one last squeeze before stepping away. “Go away now,” he said over his shoulder. “I need to bathe.”

“I would much rather join you.”

“What about your brother?”

Ginny groaned and Draco laughed.

“You’re right,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And then she was gone. 

Draco spent the next half an hour soaking up in his tub. By the time he got out, it was already time for lunch and he was positively  _ starving. _

He sat next to Blaise, across from Pansy and Daphne, in the Great Hall and dug into his food. It admittedly took some time before he realised the looks he was receiving.

“What?” He frowned at his friends.

“You’re shagging Ginny Weasley,” Blaise said bluntly, and Draco almost dropped his fork.

With a quick look around him, he realised more than one person was looking in his direction. He looked back at his friend’s expectant faces and his frown deepened.

“How would you know?”

“It’s true then.” Pansy raised her eyebrows at him and shrugged her shoulders with grudging approval on her face. “I got to say, she  _ is  _ rather hot. If you take the whole … ‘Weasleyness’ out of her, that is.” 

“You two left the party together yesterday.” Daphne was the one to reply to him. “And apparently the Weasel and Potter caused a big scene in their common room about her not coming back last night.”

“Everyone is talking about it,” Blaise said before taking a mouthful of french toast.

“It’s barely noon!” Draco looked scandalised.

“Gossip flies fast around Hogwarts, mate,” Blaise replied with a grin. “So, how was it?”

Draco huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes before going back to his lunch. He then proceeded to glare at anyone who looked his way, and quickly ate before leaving. His friends trailed behind him as he made his way out of the Great Hall. 

He was about to go down to the Dungeons when he heard Weasley. The male one, that was.

“Oi, Malfoy!” Weasley yelled. “Get back here, you tosser.”

Draco sighed and turned around. Weasley and Four Eyes were standing shoulder to shoulder, both looking extremely miffed.

“What is it, Weasley?” He raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m really not in the mood.”

“You leave my sister alone, you fucking arsehole.” The other boy was so red Draco thought he would burst into flames at any moment.

“If she tells me to, sure.” Draco shrugged and turned around, ready to continue on his way to the common room.

The next string of events happened so fast Draco could barely follow. He saw Weasley taking his wand out of his pocket and had just a second to realise he hadn’t brought his before the ginger was on the floor with bats coming out of his nose.

“Fuck!” Weasley covered his face with his hands.

“Gin, we are just trying to hel—“ 

“Shut up, Harry!” Ginny narrowed her eyes at them, looking magnificently angry. “I’ve had enough of you two for today. You should have Madam Pomfrey take care of that Bat-Bogey Hex, because I sure as fuck won’t.”

Potter frowned at her for a few seconds before pulling Weasley’s arm over his shoulder and helping him get up. He sent a last disapproving look in her direction before heading towards the Infirmary.

Ginny stood there, chest heaving with heavy breaths as several students who had been looking at the spectacle lingered to watch her breakdown.

Draco sighed in annoyance, gritted his teeth, and headed towards her. He wasn’t one for public displays of affection, but he could see the tears starting to form in her eyes even from this distance, and he just didn’t like the way his chest constricted at the sight.

“Come on,” he murmured to her, and took her hand to guide her towards the stairs leading to the dungeons. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Ginny raised her head to look at him, her glassy eyes stopping at his chin, before nodding slowly and following his lead. Draco glared at anyone who started whispering and they made their way downstairs with Blaise, Pansy and Daphne following a few steps behind.

When they got to the door to Draco’s room, he told his friends he would meet them later and gently pushed Ginny inside. He ordered Dobby to get her some food and sat her down at his desk when the elf came back with a tray a few seconds later.

She didn’t say anything but did start eating, so Draco let her be for the moment. He changed into comfortable clothes and got into his bed, preparing himself to get some reading done. He was halfway through his book when Ginny got up and looked at him.

Without saying anything, he opened his left arm in invitation and watched as she divested herself of her outer layers before taking his offer. She curled herself against his side, her hand resting on his chest as her nose pressed against his neck, mimicking the way they had woken up that morning. He let his arm settle around her easily.

“I need to study,” she said quietly.

“Later,” he replied just as quietly. “Go back to sleep now.”

They lay in silence for a while before she tightened her fingers around the material of his shirt and scooted impossibly closer to him.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice appreciative even if sleepy.

It didn’t take much for her breaths to turn deep and even. After a while, she turned away from him and grumbled in her sleep before settling. Draco shook his head in fond amusement and went back to his book.

Around dinner time, he heard a knock on his door. It was Colin, carrying a bag and a worried look on his face.

“Hi,” the younger boy said with a grimace. “I brought some things for Gin to spend the night.”

Draco nodded at the boy and took Ginny’s things from him. “How did you know where to find us?” 

“Actually, Pansy found me and told me to come.” Colin looked as surprised as Draco felt. “She said Ginny would probably want to avoid Gryffindor today. Well, she was a bit ruder than that, but I’m pretty it’s the thought that counts.”

“Ginny is asleep,” Draco said, feeling a bit unsure of himself standing with Ginny’s best friend while she wasn’t present.

“Sure,” the boy replied easily, and grinned at him. “See you two tomorrow then.” 

He left with a wave.

Draco went back to his room and set Ginny’s things next to his before sitting down at his desk. He figured he would ask Dobby to serve dinner at his quarters and that he would turn in earlier that evening. 

The thought of going to sleep with her was an oddly pleasant one that was frighteningly easy to get used to.

.

That weekend had set a trend for them both. 

Ginny would usually come to his room after dinner and only leave the day after when it was time for breakfast. At first, Draco rationalised in his head that it made sense, that they were kind of seeing each other so having her in his bed was completely normal. But the more he started to crave having her body curled up next to his when he went to sleep, the harder it got to ignore the fact that it wasn’t his usual behaviour.

It had never been like that with Pansy, for example.

Still, he found Ginny Weasley worming herself into his life as quickly and inconspicuously as her things had started to appear around his room. First it was an extra toothbrush next to his, then a few spare shirts and, before he noticed, half his wardrobe was hers.

Whenever something happened, she was the first person he wanted to talk to. Having her near him was a need that thankfully got satisfied almost every night and he was left reeling at how important the bloody bint had become to him in such a short amount of time.

Draco found himself falling into a strange sort of alternate reality in which Ginny Weasley was probably as much of a constance in his life as his best friends. 

She was the first thing he saw when he woke up and the last thing he smelled before going to sleep. She was there to bring him back from his brooding and to help him keep his cool as the N.E.W.T.s approached.

He couldn’t deny it any longer.

.

.

.


	13. Chapter 13

**Dungeon Five Ch. 13**

  
  
  
  


March brought with it spring and warmer temperatures. Ginny was excited to get out of the castle and enjoy the outdoors, even if it was still a bit on the cooler side.

Gryffindor’s match against Hufflepuff was approaching fast and Ginny had to push the team harder than ever. They were a few points ahead of Slytherin; however, that could change at any moment, so she wasn’t about to let them slip on their training even if it was a pity that she couldn’t enjoy the cool breeze by the lake.

The past few months had been hard. Ron was childishly ignoring her, using Harry to pass on whatever messages he needed to send and refusing to even look at her. It was ridiculous. Ginny was very fortunate to have her friends and Draco on her side, but it still was sad that her older brother was shutting her off like that.

She felt exposed. It seemed like everyone was watching and had something to say about their relationship, as if the students were just waiting for some gossip material to present itself. 

Draco had taken to glaring and sometimes even threatening whoever said anything against them, and it seemed to help a little. At least with the Slytherins it did. Draco didn’t confront anyone who said something bad about him, so it was Ginny’s job to punch whoever it was in the face.

She got quite a bit of detentions because of it before she changed to more … discreet methods. The map the twins had given her after leaving Hogwarts certainly helped with fleeing the scene after she hexed a particularly foulmouthed student.

Things with Draco, however, were amazing. 

The last few weeks had brought them closer than ever, and she was sure now that this wasn’t just some hookup. They weren’t exactly cozy outside the bedroom—neither Draco nor Ginny being too big on the whole public displays of affection thing. They didn’t hold hands while walking together or kiss when they were in the middle of the corridor, but it was the little things that counted. The way their shoulders brushed whenever they walked or his hand on hers before he left, his fingers squeezing hers gently. Those tiny gestures spoke volumes when they were in public, and Draco and Ginny certainly made up for it when alone.

Ginny didn’t really know where they were standing, but she knew she liked whatever it is that they had. She knew that she would fight for it and that, even if they didn’t say the words aloud, they meant something to each other.

Her family, however, were being a bit more difficult.

She had received letters from all of her brothers, ranging from being mad that she was with Draco, mad that she had kissed a boy at all, or encouraging her to cause some hell—obviously that last one had come from the twins. The rest of her family were just as bad.

Her mom sent a letter with so many capitalised words, Ginny had to wonder why she didn’t just send a Howler instead. The good thing was that she seemed to be more miffed about Ginny not telling her first than about Draco specifically.

Her father had been suspiciously silent, but Ginny didn’t want to deal with that at the moment. She had received letters from Uncle James and Aunt Lily—who had been extremely supporting—but her favourite one had come form Sirius.

It was just a few short sentences, but the meaning behind them was enough to tell Ginny she had at least one person who would back her up.

_ Gin-bug, _

_ A surname only tells so much about a person. If you believe in the Malfoy boy, then so do I. _

_ Love, _

_ Padfoot _

  
  


Sirius knew what he was talking about. He was Draco’s cousin, she supposed, and still he had been sorted into Gryffindor and had become one of the greatest assets to the Order of the Phoenix resistance. 

His friend, Petter Pettigrew, who had come from a nice, traditionally Gryffindor family had ended up being one of the biggest traitors. Before Ginny had even been born, he had set several houses on fire—houses that were either from Muggleborn wizards or those who had been publicly against the Entrance Fee—and killed dozens of people. 

He was in Azkaban for life, but it had unfortunately set a trend for pure-blood supremacists. The Order had become more than a resistance to the Entrance Fee then; they had to become fighters and protectors of Muggleborns and fellow sympathisers.

She had this strange feeling in her belly that things were about to happen, that something bad was coming. She knew from how tense her family had been during Christmas break that there was something they weren’t telling the younger ones. From the hushed conversations she had eavesdropped on, she could tell they were preparing for something.

Being in Hogwarts was like being in an alternate universe, however, so Ginny felt like all the problems from outside the castle walls were so far away. The only things she had to worry about so far were to pass her exams and the upcoming Quidditch matches.

That morning was the second to last match that Gryffindor would play that school year.

The breeze was brisk as they stepped out of the changing room in their full gear, brooms in hand. The crowd roared and Ginny felt adrenaline enter her bloodstream instantly. This was her element, this was where she belonged. 

The game was brutal from the start. 

The Huffies didn’t seem to be playing around that year. Their Beaters were aiming for their heads and Ginny took a Bludger to the temple halfway through the game that had her dangling from her broom precariously. 

For a moment she thought she would throw up, and the world shifted on its axis when Coote hauled her back on top of her broom, but she stabilised herself with a couple of deep breaths. Unfortunately, their team was distracted by her almost fall. Without any of them realising, the Hufflepuff Beaters had struck two Bludgers towards McLaggen. 

They hit him full force, one to his nose and the other to the end of his broom. The rest of Gryffindor watched as he started an uncontrolled spiral towards the ground. McLaggen hit the grass hard and didn’t move any further.

Madam Hooch immediately called time, and Ginny signalled for her players to the ground. 

Madam Pomfrey was floating McLaggen to the infirmary. They only had a few minutes to gather their wits before they had to be up in the air again.

“Ron, get ready.” Ginny’s voice was steady and strict. 

Her brother got up almost instinctively, even as his legs seemed to be shaking. 

“Gin, are you sure you shouldn’t go to the infirmary, too?” Harry asked her worriedly as he checked the cut on her eyebrow. 

The blood that was flowing from it was obscuring the vision from one of her eyes, so she quickly wiped it away with her sleeve and used her wand to make a crude attempt at healing it.

She grabbed Ron by his shirt to bring him down to her level and proceeded to ignore Harry. “I need you on top of your game, do you hear me?” She looked deep into his eyes. “You can do this. You’re an amazing Keeper. All you need to do is keep those fucking badgers from scoring any further until Harry catches the Snitch.”

“Gin…” Harry was still looking at her as if she might keel over any time. In fact, everyone in the team was.

She narrowed her eyes at them, swallowed the nausea and dizziness, and yelled, “Back in the air, lions!”

She was the first to climb back on her broom. When the match resumed, she didn’t waste any time in stealing the Quaffle from the other Chaser. She viciously slammed into him, her hand scooping the ball from his slackened grip effortlessly before she moved towards their hoops.

She loosened the grip of her thighs against the wood, keeping only one hand on the handle as she flipped upside down to escape another Bludger. Her vision blackened on the edges as she approached their Keeper, but when she took her shot it hit true right in the corner of the centre hoop.

The crowd roared and the game continued. The Gryffindors and even a tiny corner of the Slytherin stand, which she knew was were Draco and his friends were sitting, chanted her name, urging her to keep playing. Ginny was never one to disappoint. 

She fought the urge to close her eyes and pass out and stood her ground as Ron defended throw after throw from the Hufflepuff’s Chasers. When Harry caught the Snitch, the whole pitch went into a frenzy.

Ginny brought her broom to the ground as fast as she could and met Ron halfway in a hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said in his ear 

His arms tightened around her in response. “I’m sorry, lil’ sis,” he said so quietly she almost didn’t catch it.

“It’s okay.” She leaned back so she could look him in the eyes. “Just promise you’ll keep the fighting with Draco to a minimum from now on.”

“Gin…”

“I’m just saying don’t start anything with him unless he does.” She stared intently at him until he nodded, rather reluctantly. 

“If the stupid ponce doesn’t do anything, then I won’t either.” 

She smiled brilliantly. “Good. Now be a darling, big brother and carry your sister to the infirmary.” 

The last thing Ginny felt was his arms around her before she finally succumbed to the darkness that had been on the corner of her eyes for quite some time.

.

Draco’s heart had felt it was about to come out of his throat while he had watched the game. Ginny had been as magnificent as ever, but the hit she took was a nasty one.

His respect towards her had grown even more as she had managed to evade another Bludger and scored thirty more points for Gryffindor.

Sure, he had thought her crazy to have kept going like she had, but brilliant all the same.

Draco tried to visit her in the infirmary, but Madam Pomfrey turned him away and said that she would be fine in a couple of hours. He decided to wait until the afterparty to see her.

When he arrived at the Gryffindor common room later that evening with his friends, the party was already in full swing. Draco quickly spotted Ginny seating on the arm of Colin’s chair, her hair in its usual ponytail and a huge smile on her face.

He didn’t even think twice before crossing the distance between them and taking her chin in his hand to turn her head up. His thumb followed the gentle arch of her eyebrow, tracing the pink line that had replaced the cut from earlier.

“Hi.” She smiled gently at him.

Draco was struck by how beautiful she looked. He realised then that this was the furthest he had ever gotten to being properly affectionate with her in public and that were quite a few eyes on them. He let his hand drop.

“Are you okay?” he asked, the frown on his face unavoidable.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

The easy laugh that followed was more reassuring to him than her words.

They stood staring at each other for a few beats, neither of them stepping farther apart, but not moving closer either.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked her, already knowing her answer. 

They went to his quarters—which he guessed was now  _ theirs _ —in companionable silence, their fingers brushing every now and then. Draco’s shoulders relaxed when he stepped out from the range of everyone’s probing glances. 

The past few weeks had been annoying to say the least. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about them, and he was tired from all the meddling. His parents had both sent letters to him, no doubt having heard the “scandal” from one of their minions. 

His father wasn’t furious—which was a big surprise—but he did seem to be under the impression that Draco had some kind of ulterior motive, and that was somehow worse. His mother was cautious, testing the waters with him as if she was dealing with a politician and not her son.

He didn’t reply to either of them.

What he and Ginny had was theirs. Sure, he didn’t know exactly how to define what it was, but that was okay because he didn’t owe it to anyone else. If she was happy and he was happy—as weird as it was to admit that, yes, he was really fucking happy with her—then nothing else mattered.

They spent that night together. 

At one point they had lost their clothes. Ginny was insistent on tracing the muscles of his torso with her tongue, and Draco—always one to believe in a little bit of  _ quid pro quo _ —suddenly felt an overwhelming need to be reminded of the noises she made when falling apart. Over and over again. 

By the time the sun had fully set outside and they were basking in the intimacy of their shared breaths and the same rhythm to their heartbeats, Ginny broke the silence.

They began talking about everything and anything, as was the usual for them, and somehow the topic had turned to Draco’s upcoming exams and what he would do after Hogwarts.

“You’ll leave Hogwarts soon,” she said very quietly, almost as if the idea had just then become real to her.

“Yes.” He frowned at the ceiling as they lay on their backs against his many pillows.

There was a beat of silence that Draco didn’t appreciate. He could feel Ginny tensing beside him, and he didn’t like it one bit. He knew that they hadn’t exactly defined their relationship, but was she really so insecure about them that the prospect of him leaving school while she stayed gave her this much anxiety?

He needed to remedy the situation as fast as possible.

“Look, I don’t know what the future holds, okay?” He didn’t look at her as he continued. “I’m pretty sure I’ll get the internship, but I honestly can’t tell anything beyond that.” He paused and took a deep breath before continuing, his voice suddenly quiet. “I just know what I want and what I want is for you to be there.”

_ There _ . He had said what was on his mind the best way he could. Ginny didn’t say anything for a while, and Draco was too scared to look at her in the face, so he waited.

“I still have another year here.” 

He could hear the amusement in her voice, and it made him groan in frustration. 

“I know, okay? I didn’t mean it literally, bloody wench. I mean—” He ran his hands over his face. “Fuck! Why is this so hard?”

Draco was interrupted from furthering his embarrassment by her moving to lean on her elbow to look at him.

“Yes,” she said simply, a grin on her face.

“What?” He frowned at her.

“Yes, Draco. I’m pretty sure you were in the middle of trying to ask me to be your girlfriend. And failing, might I add, but as much as I love to see you flounder—” 

He interrupted her with an indignant huff. 

“Hey, it doesn’t happen very often,” she continued. “I have to get my kicks wherever I can.”

“For fuck’s sake, Ginny—”

And then he couldn’t speak anymore because her lips where on his.

The kiss was fast and chaste but it still left him breathless.

“I said yes, you idiot. Why aren’t you kissing me yet?”

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! I wrote this piece for the Drinny Fix Exchange of 2018 and just got around to posting it now... There is a second part to this story that I haven't written completely yet, but this is pretty complete on itself so I thought I'd post this here! I know how this whole quarantine thing is making everyone go stir-crazy and there's always new people coming to the fandom that maybe didn't get a chance to read this back in 2018 so... yeah! 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! What do you want to see in the next part? 
> 
> Stay safe and take care of each other <3


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